The Heart Thief
by Eliza-Lou-Riley
Summary: Adopted!Merlin AU. With his mother dead and his father wanting nothing to do with him, the child Merlin is handed into the care of Balinor's closest friend Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot. As Uther's hate for magic begins to consume him after the death of Ygraine, only his surrogate son can help him see past the evils of sorcery. But is it enough?
1. Part 1- Uther, prince of Camelot

**~PART ONE~**

When Uther was still a prince, the land of Camelot was quite a different place. Magic was a frequently performed task and without it, the kingdom found it hard to function. He'd grown up with magic. You could dare say it was a part of his life.

When he was fifteen years old, his father took him out to inspect the local villages in Ealdor and whilst he was drawing his horse up to a well to drink, his eye fell upon a dirty, ragged, black-haired child; face smeared with dirt and soot from the ground, hands pulling the weeds from the Earth and tossing them into a wheelbarrow that stood near him. He addressed the stranger and when the child turned and tilted his head up to the royalty before him, his expression was anything but fear or dread.

"You may come forward," said Uther, amused by the bold spirit, "What's your name?"

The boy raised an eyebrow, as if puzzled by the simple question, "You are a stranger. Why should I tell you my name? What's _your_ name?"

"I'm Uther, Prince of Camelot!"

"Ah…" The boy nodded, "I thought you looked familiar. But I still shan't tell you my name. You're a stranger."

"My father would have your head if he heard you talking to me like that."

"He wouldn't want my head. It isn't clean."

Uther chuckled, "That's true."

He came down from his horse as the peasant child went back to pulling out the weeds and after studying his work a few minutes, spoke again, "I could never do that."

"What? Weeding?"

"Yes. It gets your hands dirty."

"Never hurts to get your hands dirty."

"Is that what your father does for a living?"

"Hardly. He's a sorcerer."

The prince looked blank for a moment, "You mean-?"

"Yes. And I have magic also."

"Then why are you wasting your time with this heinous task when you could do it with the snap of your fingers?"

"What? Like an idle prince? You amuse me, my Lord. Having magic is no excuse to be lazy." He wiped the dirt onto his knees.

"But there's no excuse _not_ to use it. You should consider it a gift."

"I do. But I have learned to only use it when in dire need of it. Wasting it on pointless chores won't be of any benefit to me. Besides, work builds up muscle."

This made sense, in some strange fashion, but there was something still bothering Uther.

"You still haven't given me your name."

"And I shall not," replied the boy, flashing a genuine smile; "I shall not stand and give you my name until you give a reason for me to tell you my name."

"I'm the prince."

"A _better _reason."

Uther wondered why he didn't just call his guards and force the words out of the peasant's mouth. Then he remembered why. He wanted an answer from the boy and he knew he wouldn't get it by behaving like a spoilt brat.

"You interest me. And I did not mean to scorn your work. It's just…well; I'd normally have the palace gardener do that type of thing for me."

"I thought so."

A shout from one of the guards alerted the prince's attention.

"My father wants me. I should be going now."

"Balinor."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name is Balinor." The peasant outstretched an arm, "I suppose we're not strangers anymore, are we?"

Uther gazed concernedly at the dusky fingers held out towards his own, and also at his robes; which he feared would gain no embellishment from its contact with Balinor's hand. Deciding against his own vanity, he returned the shake.

"I suppose not. I could dare say we could even be friends someday. Providing you wear cleaner clothes of course."

"Yes, we could. But if we are, I shall still be as dirty as I please. I like to be dirty, and I will be dirty."

Uther laughed, "It's a deal."


	2. Balinor's arrival

Camelot was indeed, as his mother had described it, beautiful.

Now eighteen years old, Balinor had been permitted to travel alone and upon arriving, he was greeted by a man whom he regonised from the messy greyish hair and sullen face.

"Gaius, where is Uther?"

"In his chambers," the physician replied in a haste as he removed the visitor's coat, "He is blessed to meet you, sir. Especially since-"

"The death of the king shalt not be mentioned in his presence, I think." Balinor warned, "You know it'll only make him bitter and then our conversation will be of nothing but dark thoughts."

"I wouldn't dare of it, sir. But I think it best I escort you to his chambers myself."

He put both arms in the horses' reins and when the beast was steadied, tied it to one of the hitching posts, to which Balinor leapt down from it. They proceeded up to the castle and Gaius called as they entered the court; "Angus! Take Balinor's horse and give it water!"

"He is wild Gaius!" The impish child with long teeth complained to the elder physician, "Look at him tossing his 'ead! He'll have mine off!"

Angus was young: very young, perhaps not ten years old. He had rattish teeth and ragged hair, but his face was sweet to look at.

"Lord 'elp me!" He whined, as the horse tossed its head once again, almost sending him over its shoulder. He voiced his displeasure by moaning to Gaius, but in the end managed to gain the creature's trust and relieve the two of the animal: looking, in the meantime, at Balinor's face with such curiosity the man felt intimidated.

When the boy was gone, Gaius escorted Balinor to the chamber of the prince, where Uther greeted his old friend with a hug that stole all the air from his lungs.

"About time!" He took a step back to examine the Dragonlord's face with his youthful eyes, "I thought you'd never arrive!"

"My Lord?" Balinor said.

"Uther to you. Now come and sit with me old friend - have a drink. We have so much to talk about."

They went and sat in the two armchairs by the window and talked a while; until one of the candles blew out and an eerie silence fell upon them. Uther seemed as a loose end.

"...There is something I wish to tell you Balinor."

"Then speak your mind."

"...I have found a woman."

Had the Dragonlord been surprised, he'd masked it well, "Oh? And is that a cause for concern?"

"I don't think so. Her father is a Lord and her mother a Lady but...but she is slightly _under_ me. If you understand..."

"Do you love her?"

"Within every inch of my heart."

"Then what have you to be concerned about?"

"My father would never have accepted our relationship. I have kept it hidden from him for so long and...now he is dead, I feel wrong-footed."

"Do what you feel is right Uther. But remember this; our status has nothing to do with the person we are, it is only a title above our heads. If you wish to marry the girl, look for what's inside her. If you find nothing, then look for another. But if you find something to connect to, then by any means have her as your wife."


	3. Arthur Pendragon

In the years that passed after Uther was crowned king - during in which he married the Lady Ygraine - his relationship with the Dragonlord Balinor never wore thin. Even when he was placed upon the throne, Uther would still call Balinor up to the palace where they would meet and dine together and talk about Camelot's progress. Along with the Dragonlord came his new wife Hunith, a respectful and dark-eyed maiden who morphed into the sister figure Ygraine never had and the two women would spend endless hours together, talking about marriage and most popular of all – children. The desire for a new generation became apparent when Ygraine was reaching her early thirties. She fell pregnant – with a son, Uther had predicted - and the announcement of the expectant mother brought great joy to the kingdom. On the morning of a fine June day, the last of the ancient Pendragon stock was born. Back in the village of Ealdor, Hunith and Balinor were busy with the hay in a far away field, when a squire came riding up on a horse across the meadow and up the lane, calling to them as soon as he'd stopped.

"My Lord Balinor!" he panted out. "The King requests your presence immediately!"

"Has the child come?"

"Yes, and he's a fine sight! The finest lad that ever breathed! But Gaius says the queen is in a bad way. He thinks it best that your wife nurse the child whilst she is taken to her bed."

"Is she ill?" Hunith asked, flinging down her rake.

"She is, but they say she's coping well." replied the squire, "She's out of her head for joy, he's such a beauty! He'll be the exact replica of his father, no doubt. You better ride with me quickly before he is put down to rest!"

They rode to Camelot soon afterwards and upon their arrival, met Angus at the front door; and, as she passed in, Hunith asked, "How's the baby?"

"Nearly ready to run about!" he replied, putting on a cheerful smile.

"And the queen?"

For a moment, the smile faltered and his cheeks tinged pink, "The queen is quite right…hopefully she'll be perfectly well by this time next week. Are you going upstairs? Will you tell the king I'll be up if she needs anything?"

Hunith delivered this message to Uther; who greeted them with a genuine smile and seemed in flighty spirits. The child was exactly how the squire had described him; already he had a soft tuft of golden hair and dark cerulean eyes that held a sea of emotion within them. He was fair – his skin wasn't sickly like most at his age - more a fluffy pink-and-white texture. He wasn't fazed by any of the faces and as soon as Balinor's hand was within reaching distance, he clamped his own around it and held on with an unclenching grip.

"He's a merry one." The Dragonlord spoke with a smile.

He wished he could speak the same for his mother. She was a thin frame since the last time they'd seen her and all the colour was gone from her face completely. All around her eyes were grey, scars from lack of sleep. When she smiled, it was painted; she didn't resent their company, but she may have appreciated some time alone.

"What's his name?" Hunith asked.

Ygraine found it within her to breathe, "Arthur. Arthur Pendragon."


	4. Inner serenity

The early days of parenthood came as a fair surprise for the young Ygraine. To begin with, the bairn hollered a lot more frequently than she had expected him to, something which drained all the energy out of her until she was forced to remain bed-ridden. As the squire had anticipated, the child fell wholly into the hands of Hunith. She and her husband remained in the castle for the next two years, whilst Ygraine spent most of her time in her chambers. The king would hover around to watch him a while but would soon take off again to check on his wife's progress or hound Gaius for another healing remedy. Every so often, the queen would request to see her son and marveled at how much he'd grown since the last time she'd seen him. Little Arthur was not fazed whatsoever; he was a feisty character from the moment he could talk and wouldn't take no for an answer. He had the strength and build of his father, as well as the hot temper. But he had his mother's wonderful eyes and smile, which was enough to brighten anyone's day.

When he was two-years old, loneliness was beginning to grow on Arthur. His nanny found him sitting on the floor of his bedroom one day and when she asked him of his misery, he replied, "There's room in my bed for two, you know."

"What do you mean, child?" The nanny asked.

"Why does Mama not have another?"

"Another what?"

"Baby. Tell Mama to have another."

Thisbe was a respected maid of the castle and decided not to alienate herself by requesting such a thing from the queen. But Uther and Ygraine began to take notice of the toddler moping around the castle and wondered if he might be sickening from something.

"It's not sickness m'lady," Thisbe informed them, "I fear the prince is lonesome."

"How could he be lonely?" said Uther, "He has the knights to frolic with."

"There hasn't been a bairn born in this castle since the little treasure's own birth," the maid replied, "Do you know of any ladies expecting?"

"The cook's daughter was a while ago – a girl, they predicted it was." Ygraine looked dismayed, "But she didn't make it to birth."

Thisbe replied with a light tone in her voice, "The prince asked me for a baby yesterday."

Uther scoffed, "Asked you? You are only a girl Thisbe!"

"Not from myself, he requested the queen give him one."

The queen went quite white, "We haven't thought of having another. I've never –"

"Arthur is all we need," Uther cut in, "We needn't go to the trouble of having another."

"That's fine sire. But the prince won't stop his keening until you fulfill his request."

Arthur took the rest of his displeasure out on Hunith, who worked in the fields collecting lavender in the daytime. She was never fazed by his hissy fits – which were mostly made up of inaudible gibberish – and would patiently wait until he'd finished before taking a lavender from her basket and weaving it into his hair.

"What's tha'?" he'd ask, hands flying up to his head.

"Lavender, Arthur. The flower of serenity. Whenever you feel like a hissy fit, pick a lavender and you'll be calm."

"Tha's silly, Hunith."

"Do you feel calm now?"

The little blonde rubbed the ends of his hair and then suddenly hugged her skirts, crying, "Yes, yes, yes!"

"Remember then, little Pendragon. Whenever you feel the tears coming, just pick a piece of lavender and you'll find inner serenity."

Arthur scrunched up the purple flower and rubbed it in-between his fingertips, carefully inhaling the scent.

"How does it smell?"

"Nice. Nice like Mama's dresses."

"That's a good thing. Would you like a comfit?"

Arthur allowed her to plop one into his mouth and said amongst chewing, "Hunith?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Can you have a baby?"

The maiden went quite white, "I? Well, I-"

"Please will you?" He tugged at her skirts desperately, "Mama won't."

"A baby is a big responsibility Arthur." She examined the boy's teary eyes and crouched to his level to wipe them away, "But I'll consider it."

Arthur wiped his eyes and reached to the maiden's chest, "Your heart's a beating fast."

He quickly ducked down into the grass and picked a lavender, carefully tucking it into her long ebony hair.

"Inner ser-en-ity, Hunith." He said, and opened his mouth for another comfit.


	5. Merlin Emrys

It was not long after her conversation with Arthur that Hunith began experiencing abdominal pain. She visited Gaius and he confirmed what everyone had suspected; she was with child. Her pregnancy meant Arthur was now handed into the care of a Nanny who wasn't Thisbe, which for a while he was reluctant to do as he wasn't good with strangers. Again, the talk of a baby brought on a great stir in the castle and it was an anxious wait. Especially for Arthur, who – with excitement at the thought of having a new little cousin - would spend endless hours asking Hunith if the child had arrived yet.

"It takes a lot longer than three days, love." His mother would tell him, "Be patient."

Many times his new Nanny, Elizabeth, would walk in on the toddler attempting to stand on his head and when questioned about his reckless antics, he replied that he was passing the time until Hunith had her baby.

The woman's health was another matter; she had a small frame and her body was not shaped well for birth. Many worried she would not make it through labour, including her own husband. Balinor was beside himself with concern that he may lose either his wife or child through birth and try as he might, could not get that image out of his mind.

"Did you worry?" He asked Uther, "When your wife bore Arthur?"

"I think every husband worries." The king replied, accepting another goblet of wine from the passing servant, "Ygraine is still quite sick from the birth. But dwelling on what could happen will only weaken the both of you. I can assure you, Hunith is stronger than she looks."

"I know that. But that takes no heed to my concern."

It was a few weeks leading up to Yuletide when Hunith went into labour in Arthur's chambers. It was a traumatic scene for the child to watch and he'd screamed wax livid until a servant was attracted by the noise and went to get the palace physician. No sooner was she in Gaius' chambers, the baby's head was already in view and it was clear the birth was going to be a quick and painful one. By the time Balinor had been called down, Hunith was cold and drenched in sweat and whiter than paper. No sooner had the newborn left her arms, Gaius immediately applied a healing potion to her lips, which in a matter of seconds seemed to work efficiently and she could breathe again. The newborn, who had now ceased crying and was staring up at the face of its father with great curiosity.

"A boy." The Dragonlord spoke softly, "What a fine man he will be."

From her bed, Hunith smiled despite the pain.

Hours later, Ygraine called from her bed that she wished to see the child and as soon as he was placed in her arms, her eyes leaked tears of bliss.

"A boy!" She exclaimed, gently stroking the dark locks that were forming, "Look how beautiful he is! And such handsome eyes! Where is Hunith? Resting no doubt. I must speak with her!"

"Hunith's body is still adjusting to the birth," Gaius replied, "But she should be fine in a week or so."

The same day, the prince Arthur was sitting on the floor of his chambers, the bairn trusted to be cradled in his arms and said unto his Nanny who was changing his sheets at the time.

"Merlin."

He said it in such a quiet tone, the Nanny wondered if he was speaking to her at all.

"_Merlin_?" She replied briskly, "That's a fair strange name, is it not?"

"I like it." The toddler responded, eyes still on the babe who was now reaching up to touch his face, "Merlin. Merlin Emrys."


	6. Child of magic

"Isn't he magnificent?" Uther muttered to Balinor, looking down upon the bairn who was currently placed in his cot, kicking his legs thoughtfully.

"Yes, he is." Balinor replied, eye falling upon Hunith who was asleep on the bed in the corner, "And my wife seems improving."

"I told you she is strong." Uther turned and went to sit opposite his friend, "What shall you call him?"

"The prince refuses to call him anything but Merlin."

"Merlin? That's-"

"Odd? My thoughts exactly. But Hunith likes it, and Prince Arthur will not take no for an answer."

"He never has."

"So Merlin it will be."

Uther cast another look at the baby, who was gurgling to himself and attempting to reach for the pieces of amber that Hunith had attached to string and hung above his cot.

"Balinor?"

The Dragonlord kept his eyes on his lively son a moment longer before acknowledging the king.

"Has he started using magic yet?"

Balinor laughed, "No, he shan't be doing that until he's at least six months old."

"I am curious to see what he can do."

"He will be capable of many great things when he is older," The Dragonlord spoke proudly, "He will be one of the greatest."

"He will if he is anything like you."


	7. A mother's love

**Warning: This chapter contains content that some readers may find distressing.**

* * *

Happiness is always short-lived.

Uther hadn't seen it coming. None of them had.

It was late, probably around midnight, and Angus had entered Hunith's room after he was awoken by the wailing of her son. The maiden was currently in the queen's chambers, talking with her whilst Balinor was accompanying Uther in sorting out his paperwork. Arthur had begged his father to allow him to sleep in Merlin's room for the night and Uther had agreed as long as his Nanny was in there with them. The maiden was asleep in a chair in the corner, unfazed by the noise, which was hardly surprising as she was constantly drinking the heavy potions supplied to her by Gaius. Arthur remained asleep on the bed so Angus went to the child before he deprived the two of any more much needed rest and after gently stroking the babe's stomach a few times, managed to reduce the crying down to a few gentle whines.

"Wha's wrong, eh? Are you feeling lonely? There, that's better, 'ent it?" He whispered to the child, "No need for all that bellering."

The baby reached up to touch the kind face, managing to trace his tiny fingertips along the servant's chin. Angus, who was nearly twenty now, carefully moved his index finger around the baby's face, marvelled by the softness of skin.

"You know Thisbe, don't you?" He muttered to the smaller being, "You may not, but she cared for Arthur at one point before you arrived. Well Thisbe and I are having a baby of our own soon. Another little one to play with. How does that sound?"

The bairn seemed happy enough. After planting a gentle kiss on the child's forehead, Angus made sure the prince had an extra blanket before blowing out the candle and leaving. He wondered if he should lock the door behind him; then decided it'd be best not to lock the Dragonlord out of his own chambers and left it open.

**~oOo~**

Something cold touched Arthur in his sleep and he shivered. It was carefully touching his cheek and then tracing down his neck, tickling the skin and making him flinch. He tried batting it away but it persisted, carefully tracing the outline of his throat. It was too cold to be a hand. Then something pressed against his mouth and he found himself awake, to the point where he was unable to scream because a hand was clamped against his lips, silencing him. He was vaguely aware of the knife waving past his eyes, reflecting off the small light that slowly crept into the room. There were three of them, all men. The biggest one was holding the knife whilst the other rooted around the room, in search of valuable possessions. The third was gazing at Elizabeth, who was still asleep, carefully examining her body. Arthur was too young to know what bandits were and what their intentions for small defenceless princes were either. He managed to jerk his head to the side and screamed with all the air in his lungs, seconds before the hand was clamped around his mouth once more. Down the hall, Hunith and Ygraine turned their heads at the noise.

"Arthur…" the queen trailed off, and as she was too weak to move, Hunith sprinted down the hall immediately, flinging open her chamber door. She found three masked men inside; one of which had Arthur on his knee and another who had a knife at Elizabeth's throat, threatening to sink it into her flesh if she made a sound. Hunith froze as the third bandit came into view, cradling her son in his arms.

"Evening, your majesty." He said with a cold smirk.

Hunith remained solid, though she fought not to laugh at the fact that she'd been mistaken for the queen.

Merlin was awake, gazing curiously up at the stranger handling him, vaguely unaware of the danger. Though his face was hidden, Hunith could see the evil smirk forming behind the mask of the intruder, as he held her helpless baby from her reach. Arthur seemed sensible to what was going on but remained quiet, fearing the sharp object before him.

"I suggest you don't try anything…" The villain ran a tongue over his bottom lip, "…don't want anything to happen to your little princes, do you?"

The maiden watched in horror, as he took a small dagger from his belt and began tracing it along the blankets in which the bairn was wrapped in. He was playing games.

"Please…" she gasped, "…I'll do anything."

This seemed a good enough response. He placed the child on the floor and forced the woman to her knees, whereupon the top of her dress was ripped open, exposing the delicate parts beneath.

"Better hide the littleun's eyes." He sneered to the others.

Hunith stiffened as he felt around her breasts, slowly squeezing them and sometimes disgustingly running his tongue between them. This allowed her time to look around the room for a possible escape. She noticed he'd carelessly left his dagger on the floor beside him. In a quick move, she'd reached forward and after gripping the weapon, stabbed him in the knee with it. He keeled back, screaming whilst she slid underneath him and tried to crawl to Merlin.

Only a few doors away, Uther had received word that a group of bandits had broken into the castle and he immediately called his guards to check on the prince and Merlin. Within minutes of giving this command, Arthur's scream was heard for the second time. He and Balinor ran to the prince's chambers immediately to find the prince lying on the bed shrieking. Elizabeth was in the corner, wailing also with her hands over her ears. The windows were open, curtains billowing in the cold night air and the sound of the bandits hooting with laughter as they escaped down the castle walls. Balinor's gaze fell upon Hunith and he fell to his knees beside her; it was apparent her throat had been cut from the amount of blood that leaked from her neck and down to her exposed chest. She was choking as if trying to speak to him, but before she could her heart turned over and she gasped. Amongst his unshed tears, Balinor held her close and while leaning on his shoulder, a fit of coughing took her - a very slight one - so blood fell past her lips. He raised her in his arms; she put her two hands around his neck, her face changed colour, and she was dead. Uther went and picked Merlin off the floor, carefully rocking him.

"Dead!" Arthur wept from his bed, "Dead, dead, dead!"

"Arthur, be _quiet_." Uther hissed in his misery, as Balinor cradled the body.

"I won't, I won't, I won't!" The child shrieked, "Dead, dead, dead! I'm going to cry, cry myself sick!"

He did so with great passion and buried his face into the bedsheets, the muffling of his sobs leaving Balinor in silence, undisturbed by the whining of his newborn from the arms of Uther. He held the stiff figure that was once his wife with soulless eyes as the infant bellered for all to hear as if marking this moment of tragedy.


	8. Adoption

Hunith's burial was a quick process and her passing was mourned by many. Her gentle nature was missed by most and two days after the funeral, Balinor left Camelot without his son, his only words to Uther being that he could never face having to tell the child of his mother's fate when he came of age. The bandits were caught and sentenced to death and the only satisfaction that Uther received from that was the pleasure of informing them that it was not the queen they had murdered. He looked forward to watching the execution. Angus entered the king's chambers an hour after the funeral and amongst his tears let out a string of apologies, which were gently accepted by the king. It was not the servant's fault; if it was anyone's fault it was his own. He knew now never to let the children out of his sight for any reason.

Hunith's death left many marks. Including what to do with her son. There was no other family to speak of; Hunith had been an orphan since a young age and Balinor was the last of his kind. He didn't want to risk putting the child up for adoption, in case he went to a broken family. After the Dragonlord's departure, despite her health, Ygraine insisted she and Uther raise Merlin as their own, though Uther strongly objected the idea.

"He's not ours." He would say whilst the infant lay sleeping in his crib, "It'd be wrong to raise him when he is not of royal blood."

"Wouldn't it be_ more_ wrong to abandon the infant you see as your own nephew?" Ygraine wept back, "I want another child Uther, nay, I _yearn_ for another child! So many times we have tried but all in vain!"

"We don't need another. We have Arthur."

"Arthur doesn't need me anymore. He's grown out of me! I want someone to depend on me, to call me mother again! I want a _baby_ Uther!"

They tried - God bless them - they tried for another. Over a dragging period of months until Merlin was old enough to crawl. Every pregnancy ended in miscarriage and Uther saw his wife sinking further and further into depression. Her constant pleading began to sink in and after the queen had suffered internal bleeding for the third time that year, Uther willingly agreed that they would raise the boy, Merlin, as their own.

**~END OF PART 1 ~**


	9. Part 2 - Brother and cousin

**~PART TWO~**

By the time Merlin Emrys was two years old he was a well accustomed member of the Pendragon family; a thin, pale child but with a dazzling smile that could light a room, as well as a round of adoring beauty in his face which got the maidens squealing. All the residents of Camelot loved him; along with the queen, for if ever she were ill in bed, she'd bring him to her lap and would lie with him for hours, just listening to him attempt to talk to her. She didn't consider him adopted; he was her son, blood related or not blood related, and in Hunith's memory she would protect him with her life.

Merlin's temper was calm and he never cried for more than an hour, which was a relief for everyone as Prince Arthur had been the complete opposite. By the time he could walk, he was following the flaxen-haired boy everywhere and if the two were ever separated you'd pay the price of their hollering. His loyal nature and obedience towards Arthur became obvious when their nanny found him waiting outside the door of the Great Hall, where inside the now four-year-old Arthur had been dragged into a dull meeting. As an injured dog would, Merlin would whine and become unsettled if Arthur were ever to leave the room, only for him to simmer down again as soon as he returned. Uther never worried of Arthur's attachment to Merlin; the only thing that concerned him was Merlin's use of magic. It became clear that the boy was indeed a warlock; the king had seen the small bursts of magic himself, while Merlin remained oblivious to his powers. He recalled many times walking in on the two boys and catching Merlin levitating certain items whilst Arthur watched in fascination. Gaius assured that Merlin would learn to control his powers as he got older but that didn't take the negative thoughts out of the king's mind. Raising a child was hard enough. Raising a sorcerer was another matter.

"Come on Merlin! Come to Angus!"

Uther hardly found it surprising when he passed through the palace halls one day to find his manservant squatted at the top of the staircase; halfway down it young Arthur was patiently waiting as the raven-haired infant pulled himself up the stone steps, pausing every now and then to look to his foster brother for approval before starting again. He was getting big, everyone knew it. He'd mastered walking, but most of the time he preferred to crawl and the staircase seemed the ideal journey for him.

The bairn sneezed all of a sudden and a vase exploded into pieces not too far away from them. Arthur watched in awe.

"Angus! Did you see that? That was because of Merlin, that was! Do it again Merlin!"

Uther gathered up the toddler before he could do anymore damage, "I think that's enough for today. I apologise for asking you to watch them at such short notice Angus; I know you and Thisbe have your own son to tend to."

"It was my pleasure, sire." Angus stated as Arthur began making faces at Merlin to get the baby giggling, "I'm sure Thisbe is able enough to keep the bairn quiet two hours."

"How is the lad?"

"Only just beginning to walk. He was born a month too early but he's healthy and that's all that matters."

"Remind me of his name."

"George, sire."

Uther allowed the two boys to go and play in the nursery by themselves, though he made sure that two guards remained outside at all times. Arthur was often in a keen mood for playing knights and dragons, but today he was more interested in Merlin.

"Do that trick again Merlin! Like what you did with the fruit!"

Merlin craned his little head around a moment, then glanced at the necklace around Arthur's neck. It was a wolf tooth attached to a piece of string, an heirloom passed down from many generations. Merlin focused on it for a few minutes, intense concentration spreading across his childish face, before his eyes flashed gold and suddenly the necklace was trying to reach the sky. Arthur started laughing as the necklace flopped back down against his chest again.

"You're amazing Merlin."

The raven-head walked clumsily over to him and propped himself on the prince's lap, playing with the necklace, "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"When's Mama going to get better?"

Merlin always referred to Ygraine as his mother. He was too young to know of Hunith or Balinor; Arthur had been instructed never to speak of them in the child's presence.

The prince replied, "I don't know Merlin."

"I hope she's better soon."

"As do I."

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Angus says you're my cousin."

"I am."

"But you're my brother."

The golden haired child looked dumb for a moment, "I...I'm both, I suppose."

The toddler's eyes fluttered a moment, then he rested his head against the elder boy's chest, "Alright then..."

Arthur remembered what happened that night. It was something that never left his memory. It was all blurry but the details never left him. He remembered how close they'd been to disposing of him and Merlin. He gripped the raven-head a trifle too tight and he squawked.

"Ar_thur_! You're hurting me."

"Sorry..."

**~oOo~**

Arthur was quiet for the rest of the afternoon. Uther noticed, so when the children were being changed for bed, he hung around for a change.

"Arthur?"

The child turned at the king's voice, "Yes Papa?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes Papa, I'm fine."

"You are lying to me, Arthur Pendragon." The king gave him a knowing smile, "I have known when you are lying to me since the day you were placed in my arms for the first time. Now tell me what's the matter."

The child's boots shifted against the stone floor, "I was thinking about Hunith today."

Uther whipped his head around to make sure Merlin wasn't within earshot and then hissed back, "You know you're not supposed to speak of her in front of your brother."

"I didn't! But...I miss her Papa. I don't-"

"Listen to me Arthur." Uther stooped down to the prince's level, "I know what happened was traumatic for you. But Merlin can never know. It may harm him, Arthur. You don't want him hurt, do you?"

The prince shook his head quickly, "No, no, no."

"Good. Now you better retire to your bed if you want to watch Papa in training tomorrow."

"Goodnight Papa."


	10. Rare sickness

"How is she Gaius?"

The physician looked anything but relieved, "I'm afraid it's not good news sire. The illness is so complex it's beyond my knowledge, I have no idea how to treat it."

Uther glanced at his wife, who was pale and shaking on the bed nearby, "There must be _something_ you can do."

"My remedies aren't working sire, they aren't strong enough. But if you were to ask for my advice, the only suggestion I would have is magic."

Uther allowed this to stick in his mind, "Do you really think that's the only answer?"

"If we wait any longer, I fear the queen may not make it to next week."

Gaius' tone was something to be taken seriously. Uther sat himself down and pondered over the idea for a few minutes, whilst the physician poured another pointless remedy down the queen's throat. He couldn't stand another day watching his beloved suffer - even if her suffering was silent. He craned his head over to Gaius and spoke as if he was near death.

"Do you know of anyone who can do it?"

**~oOo~**

"But Papa, _why_?"

"I'm sorry Arthur," Uther spoke whilst saddling his horse, "But it's only for a few days."

The prince kept hold of Merlin's hands, pulling the toddler to him defensively, "But we don't want you to go!"

The king turned and looked down upon his eldest, who was holding his younger cousin and foster brother as if he couldn't bear to loosen his grip. He knelt to their level and carefully brushed the tears away from the cerulean eyes.

"This is for the good of your mother," he said in a quiet voice, "I need you two to be good for Angus while I'm gone, promise?"

Arthur nodded stubbornly, and when Uther went to kiss him, he bent his head so the king missed his cheek and it landed on his screen of hair instead. Sighing, Uther went to embrace Merlin, who reached up and wound both arms around his neck. After the king had mounted his horse and left through the gates with his men, Arthur quickly sucked in the air and turned on his heel to run back through the palace doors. Merlin found him several hours later, weeping like a sick maiden on his bed.

"Arthur?"

The elder child looked up with slight embarrassment when he realised his childish wailing had been witnessed by the younger boy. But the sight of Merlin broke his heart further and he started to whimper again. The toddler carefully trotted over and pulled himself onto the prince's bed next to him, carefully reaching up a hand to wipe away the budding tears that refused to stop flowing.

"Ow..." Arthur said with a sob and a giggle, as Merlin accidentally poked him in the eye, "Ye Gods, I must look a right sight!"

"Yep!" Merlin replied, shrieking as Arthur started tickling his stomach, "Is Arthur better now?"

"Yes, but only because of you."

"Do you think Papa will be alright?"

"Yes I do, but I'm still worried. He won't tell us where he's going so that means it's something dangerous."

Merlin looked alarmed for a moment, then disguised his concern with a petulant frown, "Where's Angus?"

"I don't know. Why?"

The raven-head rubbed his stomach in a circular motion, "Tummy hurts."

"Do you want your milk?"

"Yes."

"I'll call Angus in a minute. Though he's probably with the baby."

"I don't want another baby."

"Why not?"

"Then I won't be the littlest anymore."

"That's good, isn't it? You'll be like a big cousin."

"Maybe..."

"You'll always be the littlest to me anyway," the four-year-old swung his legs over the edge of the bed, "Now come on, your stomach is roaring. We better get something inside you."

**~oOo~**

"Merlin, you _know_ you're not supposed to do that at the table." Angus sighed, pulling the jug of milk down from mid air, "Remember what your father said."

Merlin grinned mischievously, wiping a drop of milk from his chin. He knew all too well that he was supposed to keep his magic to a minimum, seeing as he was unable to control it which could easily result in all kinds of catastrophic accidents. Nevertheless, he didn't see why he couldn't get away with breaking the rules sometimes.

From the other end of the table, Arthur smirked, "Good one Merlin. Can you pass me a goblet?"

Before Angus could stop him, the child's eyes had flashed gold and one of the goblets suddenly sped across the table into the prince's waiting hand.

"Thanks."

Angus rolled his eyes and lifted the toddler out of his chair, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I say you feed him to the hounds!"

"_Arthur_!"

"Where's Papa going Angus?" The prince asked after taking a sip of water, "He wouldn't tell me."

"And I shan't tell you either." The servant replied, wiping Merlin's chin with a napkin, "He'd have my hide for it!"

"Come, tell us Angus." Arthur whined, "Papa will never know. Go on, be a Devil."

Angus gave a defeated sigh, "Well...he believes there is a powerful sorceress in the forest who can heal your mother's illness."

"_Really_?"

"But you didn't hear it from me!"

"Course not."

"So is Mama getting better?" Merlin asked, grabbing Angus' nose.

"We hope so."

"Told you." Arthur pulled out his chair, "Now let's go and play with Juno, I'm bored."

"Just make sure you give the wretched dog his breakfast first!" Angus called after him, setting Merlin on the ground so he could follow him, "You know how he gets when he's hungry!"


	11. Nimueh

Uther was absent from the castle for another four days or so, and it was on a cold wet morning that Arthur was awoken by Merlin repeatedly bouncing on his bed, crying, "Papa's home! Papa's home!" - though how the toddler had managed to escape out of his cot was a mystery.

By the time they had reached the front doors they could already see the king's horse drawing up in the courtyard, and no sooner had Uther set foot on the ground he found the prince had already sped over and clamped his arms around his waist, Merlin carefully clambering after him.

"You two aren't dressed." He stated fondly.

Arthur glanced down at his nightwear, sighed and pressed his face harder into the king's robes, "I know."

"Papa!" Merlin gripped the king's leg, refusing to let go, "You're not dead!"

This earned a chuckle from several of the guards whilst Arthur flushed a vast shade of fuchsia.

"Dead?" Uther picked the child off the ground and lifted him above his head, the height making the little one shriek with excitement, "I may have a few years on me Merlin, but I'm far from dead."

Merlin giggled and when set back on the floor, craned his head around to stare at the other horse that had entered behind the king. She was a Camarillo mare without a saddle and her rider's face was hidden beneath a hood, though even the two-year-old could identify the size and build of a young woman. She was helped down from her horse and escorted towards the palace by two of the guards, her face remaining hidden all the while. Arthur's eyes turned to slits.

"Who's _that_?"

Merlin felt cold all of a sudden; a slight chill that travelled down the spine and left a tingle at the small of his back. The figure turned her head briefly and for a second their eyes met; though it was merely a glance. Merlin suppressed the feeling that he'd seen her somewhere before, though he was sure he hadn't.

"She's here to help your mother." The king replied, after a long awaited silence.

"Is she a doctor?"

"Not exactly."

Merlin began to feel nervous from the eye contact and a sudden uncontrollable burst of magic sent one of the horses braying frantically. Uther glanced around to make sure no one had noticed the little blue eyes flash gold then quickly began to usher the children back indoors.

"Papa, what's her name?" The curious prince asked, eyes still drilling into the back of the figure.

Merlin seemed to know already. That's why he wasn't surprised when Uther muttered,

"Nimueh."


	12. Wagging tongues

"I don't like her."

Merlin glanced up at Arthur, who had been merrily playing with their dog Juno not moments before, but had now stopped and allowed the dog to frolic by itself whilst he sat there with his arms folded like a stubborn brat.

"Don't like who?"

"_Her_." The prince replied in a snappish tone, "She's been here almost three days now and Mama's still not better!_ And_ she's always going into Papa's chambers when we go to bed!"

"What's wrong with tha'?"

Remembering that Merlin was still young, Arthur tried to avoid being blunt, "No one knows where she came from except Papa...and I heard some old ladies talking in the market yesterday and they think Papa's having an affair."

"Oh..." Merlin's eyes diverted to the floor as he attempted to figure out the word, then sent his eyes spiralling back to Arthur, "Arthur, what's an aff...an aff...?"

"An affair?"

"Yes, that."

"I'm not sure, but I remember Elizabeth saying it's when a man who's already married wants to kiss another lady."

Merlin looked truly baffled, "But...but what about Mama?"

"Mama's been sick for ages now...you know back last winter when you got that dreadful sneeze and I got bored of sitting around, waiting for you to get better?"

Merlin nodded.

"Well...maybe Papa's tired of waiting for Mama to get better...so he's..."

Putting two and two together, Merlin's eyes welled up and he burst into tears, "No, no, no, no, no..."

"Papa and Nimueh might get married," Arthur sounded close to tears himself, "And then they'll have more children..."

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

The toddler dissolved into tears and was soon accompanied by Arthur; from the corner Juno caught on and let out a series of mournful howls. Soon Merlin was wailing so loudly neither of them heard the door open.

"What's all this?" Uther's voice silenced the toddler, "What's all the fuss about?"

Merlin sobbed and held out his arms for the king to take him, "We don't want you to have more!"

"More? More what?"

"Children," Arthur snivelled, "And we don't want you to leave Mama either! We don't want you to have an affair!"

"An affair?" Uther glanced down at the toddler who was weeping against his chest, "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

"That woman," Arthur wiped his eyes messily, "She's-"

"Here to help your mother, as I said." Uther said, "She's a sorceress."

At this, Merlin lifted his head, face stained, "Sor...sor..."

"A sorceress. Your mother needs magic to help her get better. I didn't tell you because I feared you'd worry about her."

"Magic?" Relief flushed over Arthur's expression, "But, Merlin has magic. Can't he do it?"

The king laughed, "Merlin's not nearly big enough yet. But perhaps it'll be best if Angus looks after you for the next few weeks."

The relief turned to upset, "But you've only just got home!" Arthur exclaimed.

"I know that, but as I said, this will take some time. Be good with Angus and Thisbe and I promise I'll check on you whenever I can."

Merlin, who was the more obedient of the two, nodded his head like a proper trooper, though Arthur remained uncooperative.

"_Arthur_?"

"Fine..." the child muttered, turning his face away from his father and crossing his legs.


	13. One in the same

His miniature teeth chewing against the solidity of his father's best medallion, Merlin craned his head over the edge of his cot, carefully pulling himself onto his feet without losing balance. He was vaguely aware of the voices murmuring in the next room where the queen was asleep in her bed. He could identify Gaius' voice, as well as the voice of his father. The third he guessed belonged to Nimueh and he had to strain to understand what she was saying - the truth was, Merlin only really heard about a quarter of what an adult said to him and mostly just nodded or shook his head whether he understood or not. He stood on his toes and noticed that they were all huddled around Ygraine, their voices slowly getting lower.

"She's too thin." He heard Gaius mutter.

"The weight loss is a good sign," Nimueh's voice was hushed, "Gaius, I need you to hold her nose for me."

He couldn't see what was going on, what they were doing to her. It didn't look pleasant whatever it was. There was a choking noise and Merlin was now certain they were hurting her. Before he could make a sound, they moved away from the bed and remembering he was supposed to be asleep, the child quickly laid himself back in his cot, shutting his eyes as footsteps passed through his room.

"How long?" He heard Uther's voice.

"A few hours. She'll lose colour for a while but that's all part of the process. She's improving."

The toddler kept his eyes shut until he assumed everyone had left the room, before carefully allowing them to open again. He leaped in fright when he was met with the familiar eyes of Nimueh, who had been standing there staring at him for some time. She approached the cot and carefully stooped down to collect the dropped medallion off the floor.

"I think this belongs to you."

She held out the piece of jewellery and smirked as the child snatched it abruptly and instantly resumed in sucking it as he had before, all the while glaring up at the falsely harmless sorceress above him. She was pretty but beauty is only skin deep. He could automatically tell that inside she was cold and was probably only here assisting the king for her own personal gain.

"You're a little darling, aren't you?"

Merlin's baby teeth clinked against the metal, making him shiver.

"Come now, I know you can talk. Say something."

Indeed, Merlin was very well-spoken but in the presence of this vile sorceress, he refused to utter a syllable.

She smirked again, "You don't trust me, do you Merlin?"

Never one to be discreet, Merlin shook his head wildly.

"I'm only here to help your mother." The sorceress said nicely enough, "So I hope you and I can be little friends in the future. After all, we are the same. I can see you and I ruling the world someday."

Merlin only understood about half that sentence, but his eyes still narrowed as he continued chewing on the medallion thoughtfully.

"You'll see," She reached over and her finger carefully stroked from under his chin to the side of his cheek, "You and I will get along fine."


	14. George

"He's so _peculiar_." Arthur muttered, looking down at the dark-haired, brown-eyed bairn cradled in his arms, who was currently staring blankly at the faces around him, "I mean, he doesn't even _blink_."

It was true, George was a very peculiar little fledgling. His eyes were bronze coloured and fairly dull; overall he was a very tedious character with little personality, though he had a very nice face. Merlin was fond of him but Arthur found him boring, as his raven-haired brother had been such a lively spirit at that age. George didn't do anything; whether it was crying, laughing, sneezing or anything else that required him showing emotions. He just sat there and occasionally would reach up to touch the tip of Arthur's nose with curiosity.

"I like him." Merlin said quietly, reaching out to carefully grip George's hand. George stared at him a long while before returning the hold.

"But he doesn't _do_ anything. He doesn't speak, he doesn't smile, he doesn't even laugh! Why are we stuck looking after him anyway?"

"Angus is out, remember?"

"Out with Thisbe. Frolicking in the woods, no doubt."

"Where's Papa?"

"With _her_ again."

"Who's _her_?"

"Nimueh, you goose."

"Papa said Mama's getting better."

"That's good. But I still don't want_ her_ around. I hate her."

"Yes...so do I."

"_You_ shouldn't. You two are the same; you both have magic."

Merlin's cheeks flushed a salmon pink.

"It's alright. I mean, you're nothing like she is. She's what Nana would call de-ceit-ful."

"Nana thinks _everyone's_ dece...dece...that word."

"Yes, but-"

The boy leaned against the dresser too harshly and something trembled from above him. Seconds later, the brass lion that always stood in solitary splendour upon the surface hit the floor and neatly broke in half. Arthur sank his teeth into his lip. The noise had alerted George and he stared wide-eyed at the broken lion, probably the first expression that had come across his face that day.

"Oh Arthur!" Merlin cried, "Look what you did! When Papa finds out he'll wallop you and I'll have to watch!"

"_Nah_," Arthur said with courage, picking up the back end of the lion and waving it in George's face, "He'd never wallop me. I'm too dainty."

"Liar."

"It's not like he'd be able to catch me anyway. By the time he'd rolled up his sleeves to start, I'd be halfway down the-"

Merlin suddenly gasped with excitement, "_Arthur!_"

The prince's eyes widened at the outburst, "What is it?"

"Look!"

Arthur had forgotten about the brass in his hand and when he glanced down he realised the bairn was laughing - he was actually_ laughing_. Laughing and reaching for the brass.

"Do you like this George?" Arthur whispered, waving it closer to the babe's face.

His response was a squeal of excitement. When it was close enough, the child caught it and began sucking at the lion's tail, leaving trails of watery slaver hanging from his mouth. His cheeks were pink from the laughter and his eyes had changed; they had a lively spark in them now that his positive attitude was showing. Arthur felt his lips itching to smile.

"...I suppose he _is_ rather sweet."

The door suddenly burst open and Gaius entered in an unusual flurry.

"Gaius?" Arthur attempted to wrench the brass out of George's mouth but failed, "What's the matter?"

"Arthur, your father wants to see you immediately." The tone of the physician's voice was something to be worried about.

"Why?"

"It's your mother, child." He decided not to twist his words, "She's...she's dying."


	15. Your Mama's dead

It didn't seem real. It couldn't be. Gaius had to be mad.

Arthur stared up at the elder physician with an expression of horror; all the colour seemed to drain from his face and suddenly movement was difficult. Merlin felt his lips go numb.

"No Gaius...you've got it wrong," Arthur started shaking his head viciously, "Mama can't be dying..."

"Arthur, I'm sorry-"

"I want to see her."

"Arthur-"

"I want to see Mama!" The child dodged past Gaius and sprinted to the queen's chambers, almost knocking over several servants in his path. As soon as he reached her room, he flung open the doors to find his mother in the arms of the king whilst Nimueh attempted to find a pulse.

"Do something!" Uther was white with fear, "Ye Gods, she isn't breathing!"

The sorceress didn't respond. She pressed her ear against Ygraine's chest for a heartbeat. It was soft, almost inaudible. She was shaking, trying to speak. The choked breathing that escaped from her blue lips suddenly gasped and she fell back in his arms as she exhaled.

Silence.

Uther's face changed, as if his soul had been torn out. He attempted to wake her, but it was obvious she was in another place now, somewhere trapped between worlds. Arthur took a few steps back and when he was aware of what had happened, covered his ears and screamed until Angus came running and restrained him from scratching his own eyes out.

"Oh God!" He kept screaming, "Oh _God!_"

"Arthur..." Uther gasped and his fists clenched in an attempt to resist the tears as he addressed Angus with a choked voice, "Get him _out_."

Arthur was beyond listening. He hollered so loudly that Angus had to resort to picking him up and carrying him out of the room. Uther stared at the sweat soaken face of his once beloved and in a second had turned and knocked all the items off the table behind him with one swift move of his arm, marking it with a roar of grief. Nimueh watched him, visibly stung and when she met his eyes she felt a slight tinge of fear for the first time in her life.

"You..." Was the only word he could breathe.

**~oOo~**

Angus carried Arthur kicking and shrieking until they reached his room, whereupon he took to rocking and attempting to gentle the child's temper before his heart gave in from such a hissy fit. He resisted at first, even trying to bite at the servant for one minute. But in the end the exhaustion kicked in and he took to sobbing into the man's neck instead. Merlin came toddling in, with George crawling after him and stared up at the weeping prince with great fear.

"Arthur...why're you crying?"

Arthur glanced at Merlin as fresh tears emerged, "Oh Merlin, Merlin."

He reached out his arms and pulled the toddler up to join him and Angus and when George whined and held up his own hands, Angus stooped down and lifted him also.

"Angus, what's wrong?" The baffled infant glanced at the servant.

Angus looked grey, "My little Merlin, it's your mother."

The only word Merlin really comprehended was 'mother', "Mama? Is Mama awake yet?"

"No, my child," Angus looked up to the ceiling to keep away the tears, "...she's dead."

Merlin blinked, "Dead? Well...when will she stop being dead?"

"She'll never stop..." Arthur trailed off and hid his face in Angus' shirt again.

"M'sorry..." Angus muttered, allowing a tear to escape, "I never thought it would happen so soon...oh Merlin, don't you cry too. Come 'ere, sssh, it'll be alright child, it'll be alright."

Everything had ground to a halt after that. The next thing Arthur knew, Nimueh was nowhere to be seen, his father had locked himself in his chambers with his mother's body and the people of Camelot had gathered outside the castle with lit candles humming a ghostly tune. He stayed away from all the faces, he didn't want to see them. He spent his time with Merlin, who was still upset and confused over the whole situation, and the prince was forced to repeatedly remind him over and over again of what death was. George would hover around them, sucking on the brass handle that had broken off one of the doors and accompany them in crying when they did so. He thought it was all a game. The next morning, after Uther finally allowed the doctors to enter his chambers and remove the body, Arthur refused to watch his mother's body being carted off. He stayed away from the funeral. He refused to look, he refused to do anything. When Elizabeth entered, he hid under his bed and refused to see her; when Thisbe entered with his supper, he refused to eat it. He didn't want anything. Only Merlin. Only Merlin was allowed to sit with him during his grieving. Because Merlin had lost a mother too. Because Merlin was all that mattered now.

More than anything else.


	16. A new law

"Sire, I implore you to reconsider!"

"You cannot change my mind Gaius!"

Arthur was awoken by his father's voice and carefully eased himself out of bed so not to wake Merlin, who was in a deep slumber beside him. The prince insisted they share a bed now, for what reason no one was sure of. Arthur squatted by the half open door and peered through the gap to the corridor where his father was currently quarrelling with the palace physician.

"Sire, this is madness! The queen's death wasn't at the girl's hand!"

"No, it was at the hand of magic!" Uther hissed, "Magic took my wife and it could very well take Arthur as well."

"What happened as a tragic accident, you can't blame-"

"I _loved_ her, Gaius!" Uther allowed his walls to collapse and he sank back against the wall, "...She was my world. Without her...I cannot allow her memory to be tarnished Gaius."

Arthur held his breath as the king regained his posture and turned back towards the physician.

"As of tomorrow, magic will be a thing of the past. I want every witch, every sorcerer, every warlock out of Camelot. Magic shall never enter these walls again as long as I reign. I mean it Gaius. As of tomorrow, Camelot will be wiped clean of magic. I want them _gone_."

**~oOo~**

The words spiralled in and out of Arthur's head the next morning; so violently he couldn't stomach breakfast. He had only understood vaguely what the king had said, but he understood enough. No one seemed themselves that day; Angus served them in silence, the maids wandered about with none of the queen's washing to sort, and even the dog was reluctant to be walked, which was unusual for the feisty creature. Indeed, it had been a quiet week since Ygraine had passed and the only one who seemed in flighty spirits was George, who would attempt to chew anything brassy he came across. When the king passed the law on magic and exiled every sorcerer within Camelot to the forests near Ealdor - with the threat of death if they ever returned - he made sure Angus kept Merlin in the nursery until he had finished his cold speech, as he wished to avoid having to explain the situation to the infant just yet.

"How is he?" He asked when the deed was done and he found his foster son and manservant playing in the nursery.

Angus replied with bitterness, "Tis a brighter spark than ever."

Uther knelt down and carefully stroked the raven locks whilst Merlin muttered to himself in bairn language and continued chewing the medallion the king had leant him.

"What are we going to do with you?" He asked more to himself than the child.

"Will you ever tell him sire?"

"One day, maybe. But not now, he's too young. It'd only frighten him." He turned to the servant, "Only the people of this castle know he has magic."

"Yes, the townspeople are quite unaware-"

"And it will remain that way. To them, he is as normal as everybody else."

"But sire...you have _condemned_ magic-"

"I know that," he looked down on the child again, "But I have grown fond of the boy. I promised my wife we'd raise him as our own and I shall do that. I cannot bear to send him away."

"But you can't keep it a secret forever. Truth will out eventually."

"Anyone who utters the truth faces the noose," Uther growled, "I will not abandon him Angus, as far as I'm concerned I have two sons. But magic will remain condemned until I reach the grave. That is a _promise_."

**~END OF PART 2~**


	17. Part 3 - Childish behaviour

**~PART THREE~**

Camelot's society took a dramatic turn after the ban on magic. Sorcerers fled the city walls and into the safety of the forest ; but the fools who stayed behind were tortured and then executed on the spot as the king had ordered. As he aged, Arthur became witness to many savage and gruesome punishments; brutal floggings that tore a man's flesh from his back and then the notorious burning at the stake or decapitation that would always get his knees knocking. He would go to the servant's chambers and sob into Angus' lap after such events, but by the age of eight he was used to it and would stand to the side with a solemn face until it was over. He would then walk calmly to the privacy of his room, where he'd shut himself away and weep there.

Merlin was kept away from the events altogether and when he questioned Elizabeth or Thisbe over what the poor soul had done to deserve such punishment, they always replied, "Something bad Merlin, something bad."

Now six years of age, Merlin's magic was developing rapidly and soon the art of levitating fruit bowls was long in the past; he could now move whole tables just by glancing at them and every time he sneezed, a window would break somewhere. He'd been ordered by his father to never use magic when in public but ever the jest, the boy could sometimes raise a few eyebrows when a snake suddenly appeared out of the marketer's stall to startle the blacksmith's horse. Meanwhile, his sorcery remained unknown to the townspeople, who usually shrugged off these unusual occurences. The king's subjects knew all too well of the child's abilities, but as instructed they ignored it and treated Merlin as if he were any other 'normal' child. To them he was just Merlin Emrys-Pendragon; the king's nephew, foster son, the second prince.

Nothing else.

Arthur's attitude changed for the worst; in the years after his mother's death he became increasingly cantankerous and arrogant – as his father had once been as a fledgling. His tone was often flippant and his humour cruel; Merlin would more than often come across him teasing the servant's boy George for various reasons. After a while, Merlin had inherited several nicknames, the most popular being 'idiot.' Arthur had adopted quite a healthy one too – 'prat,' or for when the arguments really hit the roof, 'Royal ass.'

But despite their differences, the two remained as thick as thieves and after any argument – when one of them had stormed off and the other had spent the entire day weeping in his room – they would reluctantly exchange apologies and spend the rest of the night curled up in Arthur's bed.

They were also very notorious for their shenanigans around the kingdom.

"Arthur! Merlin! Get down here _now_!"

Arthur halted his reading and leaned back in his chair to exchange a grin with Merlin before they decided to hurry back to the throne room before their father became further vexed. Hen they reached the hall, they were greeted by an elder Gaius, who merely shook his head at them and stepped respectively to the side.

"Childish." Was the word that left Uther's mouth like poison, "Completely and utterly _childish_."

Arthur managed to restrain himself from stating that he and Merlin were in fact children and therefore had every right to act childish and merely bit his lip to keep the smirk from showing. Merlin was far more wary.

"Arthur, you are heir to the throne of Camelot and old enough to know that a prince should not waste his lesson hours causing trouble in the kingdom – _and_ encouraging his younger brother to do so! It took Sir Pellinore hours to get all the hounds out of the sheep field!"

"You asked us to walk them."

Uther growled in frustration, "Arthur, I meant one by one, not _altogether_. You opened the cage and let them all run off. What if they'd hurt someone?"

At this, the seriousness of the situation managed to sink into Arthur and he went mute. Merlin twitched uneasily.

"And you knew better too Merlin." Uther turned to his youngest, "You need to tell me when Arthur tries to make you do things. Getting yourself involved only worsens the situation."

Merlin looked wounded, "I'm sorry Papa, I'll never do it again."

"Sorry isn't good enough this time." The king's voice was anything but merciful, "I've let you off enough times with a slap on the wrist, but you've just proven that my methods haven't been harsh enough."

Knowing what was coming, Arthur quickly held onto Merlin's hand.

"Papa, please. If you're going to punish us, punish me. It was my idea; I let the dogs out, I let them run off, not Merlin. So if you're going to smack anyone, smack me. I deserve it."

Merlin's blue eyes started watering, "Arthur, no, no!"

Uther was both moved and amused by the extreme loyalty between the two; but at the same time, he knew that lack of discipline could result in further rebellion. Mind you, he could never bring himself to lay a hand on his children at such a young age; even if Angus did it for him.

"How about this?" Uther said, reaching out to gently calm Merlin down, "Arthur, there'll be no hunting trips for you for the rest of the week-" He held up a hand before Arthur could protest, "-and Merlin, you can accompany Angus on his errands tomorrow. Sound fair?"

"Yes." The two replied, though evidently they were lying.

"Good. Now I don't want to hear about anymore funny business, you understand? The last thing I need is a flock of local farmers rioting because our dogs have eaten half their livestock."

**~oOo~**

"Did we get away with that or what?" Arthur laughed and collapsed back on his bed, "I half expected him to give us both a walloping!"

"He nearly did." Merlin snapped, pulling himself onto an armchair, "You better not talk me into another stunt like that, otherwise we'll get our hides torn off."

"You worry too much-"

"I _mean_ it Arthur. I've never got a smack before and I never _want_ to get one."

The prince went quiet a moment, eyeing his raven-haired brother thoughtfully until the tension got to him and he held out his arms.

"Come here."

Muttering to himself like a stubborn infant, Merlin lazily hopped down from the chair and dragged his feet towards the bed, before flopping all his body weight onto Arthur's lap. The elder child was built to support such weight - and it was a heavy weight despite Merlin's skinny frame - and he carefully cradled his brother on his lap while Merlin sighed and pressed the side of his face against his brother's neck.

"You're a Devil, d'you know that Arthur?"

"Yes, you've told me before."

"Always getting us into trouble."

"Yes, but we had fun, eh?"

"It won't be as fun when we're too sore to sit down for dinner."

"Fair point. But that still doesn't mean we can't have fun. There'll be no time for fun this week anyhow; I'm not allowed to go hunting and you're stuck following Angus around with a basket all day."

Merlin whined, "I forgot about that!"

"At least you can play with George while you sort the laundry."

"Ugh."

"I thought you liked George."

"I do, but all he talks about now is brass."

"He makes you laugh though."

"Yes, he does that. I suppose I could distract him with a game of hide and seek."

"That's an idea. Where's Juno by the way? I haven't seen him since the morning."

Ironically, there was a sudden clatter from nearby, similar to the sound of several glasses smashing and an exclamation from Angus sounded, "That bloody dog!"


	18. Words of wisdom

"You seem troubled, my Lord."

Uther became aware of Gaius' voice, which was surprising as he was so warped in his own silent world. He was watching his two boys frolicking in the courtyard, chasing the family dog. There was something about Merlin that had changed dramatically as he aged; something had changed about his eyes and the way he looked at people. He was far less cautious and looked upon every peasant as a prince would, though he never mocked or alienated them as Arthur did.

He reminded Uther of the queen.

"Do I Gaius?" He replied to the physician, "I apologise, I will try and disallow such a look to grace my expression in the future."

"You're concerned for your youngest?"

"As always."

"Has there been any trace of Nimueh?"

"Alas, none," the king's tone went cold, "She's disappeared with the wind."

"Even a sorcerer leaves tracks."

"My men have searched every inch of the forest. It's like trying to trap air Gaius; she leaves no trail."

"Do you fear her returning?"

"Every waking minute. I also fear she may target Merlin."

"Why would she?"

"They are one in the same. She believes it's wrong for a child with such magic to be raised by those without. And I know she's yearned for a child of her own-"

"It shall ever come to that sire," Gaius approached the king by the windowsill, "Merlin's power will soon be levelled, perhaps greater than Nimueh's. He would never-"

"I am not his father Gaius." Uther sounded wounded, "I have tried to be the best I can; I've raised him as my own, sometimes put him before my own son...but though I create an illusion that he is my blood, he's not. And he never will be."

Gaius studied the floor, taking in the king's words and as the royalty before him resumed its hunched up position by the window, the physician replied stiffly.

"Tell me. When has bloodline ever affected your love for Merlin?"

Uther was silent.

"When has his magic ever prevented you from calling him your son?"

Once more, the silence resumed.

"And most importantly, when has young Arthur ever thought of Merlin as anything less but his younger brother?"

Uther released an exasperated sigh.

"You're right Uther; you _have_ raised that child as your own. I may not know what the future holds for young Merlin, but I do know your love for the boy is unexplainable through words, that Arthur loves him more than anything on this Earth and that the queen managed to look past the child's magic and look to him as her son. He _is_ your son Uther, blood-related or not. Someone's birthright cannot suppress the love you feel for the boy. For now free your thoughts of Nimueh, she is gone. Focus on your children, my Lord. Right now they're all you need to think of."


	19. The joy of Yuletide

**Since it's Christmas tomorrow, I decided to make this chapter an extra special one. Merry Christmas everyone! **

* * *

"Papa, wake up! It's _here!_"

Yuletide always came too quickly for Uther. Mainly because Merlin turned seven a week before the event, which made the king realise he was growing too quickly. Uther had gone out of his way with gifts this year; Arthur had earned his own dagger (which he wasn't allowed to use unless supervised,) and a brand new colt to ride, which was handy as his previous pony was ageing well.

"His fur is the same colour as your hair, Merlin," He told his brother whilst they groomed the animal in the stables, "I'll call him Bertran, yes?"

"Bertran? That means 'bright raven' doesn't it?"

Arthur nodded, "I think it suits him. What did Papa give you?"

"Um..."

"Merlin," Arthur suddenly cut in, as most children do, "Is it me, or are you getting fat?"

Merlin glanced down and observed the slight bulge under his tunic. But instead of getting upset at the prince's remark, he looked up at him grinning.

"You know Leon, don't you?"

"The knight's son? Yes."

"His cat had another litter," Merlin reached down into his tunic and pulled out a small ball of fur, "So Papa got a kitten for me."

Arthur watched in fascination as the ball unravelled and a tiny, blind creature started sniffing around, absorbing the heat from the child's hands.

"She's a beauty," Arthur carefully stroked her with the tip of his finger, "A bit small though."

"She'll grow."

"What are you going to call her?"

"Agnes."

"That's a bold name. Are you sure she ent a witch in disguise?"

Taking him seriously, Merlin replied, "Oh no, Papa said he had her all checked out before he got her. She ent a witch."

He carefully placed the tiny frame into the hay below and watched as it fell asleep almost instantly. While his back was turned, he was aware of Arthur shuffling about in the background and when he turned to face his older brother, he found him with his hands behind his back, caught in the act.

"What are you hiding?"

Arthur glanced absent-mindedly behind his back then answered, "Nothing."

"Liar. What's that you've got?"

Defeated, the prince came clean, "Well, I wanted to save it for after supper but...you may as well take it now."

He produced a fine looking necklace from behind his back, and at first Merlin wondered if Arthur intended for this to be a joke. After all, men weren't entitled to wear jewelery of such feministic value. But it was very pretty to look at; a small oval shape with a pearl engraved in the middle of it. It shone coral pink.

"Arthur...did you steal this?"

Arthur scoffed, "Oh yeah, I nicked it. Some old biddy wasn't watching her tits so I nabbed it from around her neck and made off."

Merlin stared at him, mouth hanging open.

"Of course I didn't steal it! What do you take me for?"

"Well, I-"

"_Anyway_, I've had this since I was little and...it used to belong to someone close to me."

"Was it Mama's?"

"No..." Arthur decided not to say anything else, "Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"I can do it myself." Merlin carefully took the necklace and attempted to get it over his head.

Arthur giggled, "Here."

He carefully pulled the necklace down to Merlin's neck where it hung quite nicely over his chest. The light that streamed out from the window make it sparkle.

"I love it," Merlin said almost breathlessly, "Thank you Arthur!"

His arms flew around his brother's neck and he kissed his cheek several times; then for an unknown reason he went stiff and his joy fell to slight misery.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't a gift for you." The raven-head replied in a sad voice.

"Don't worry about it brother, I have a horse and a sword. What more could I need?"

"I feel rotten."

"Don't. After all, you can make it up to me on my next birthday. Deal?"

"Deal."

"That reminds me. I never gave you your birthday kisses last week."

"Oh no Arthur! No, get off, no!"

He was wrestled to the ground before he could protest anymore. Arthur managed to plant three kisses on the right cheek, three on the left and a quick peck on the younger boy's forehead.

"And one for luck!" He landed a smacker on Merlin's nose, making the littleun squawk.

"I hate kisses..." Merlin muttered, wiping the wet stuff from his face.

"No you don't. Remember those kisses Mama used to give you?"

"I liked those. But your mouth is all wet and horrible."

"I'll land you another if you say that again!"

Merlin's tongue poked out from behind his teeth.

"Just make sure Papa doesn't see it," Arthur quickly folded the necklace behind the red bandana Merlin liked wearing. Uther had been skeptical of him wearing a piece of clothing the servant's normally wore but the child had been so insistent, he soon gave in to the demands.

"Why do I have to-?"

"Papa would be vexed if he saw it. Promise you'll keep it hidden?"

Thinking nothing of it, Merlin replied, "Alright, I promise."

"I think Angus will have lunch ready for us now. We better take Agnes to your room quickly."

"Arthur?"

"Yes Merlin?"

"What are they?"

"What are what?"

"Those things you were talking about. On the lady? They began with a T-"

"Merlin, I think I hear Angus calling us, we better make haste!"


	20. Tension at dinner

"Merlin, take your feet off your chair please." Uther said without looking up, as he pressed his goblet to his lips.

Merlin shifted uneasily, knowing that if he moved his legs then his father would be able to see the book he was secretly reading. Noticing that his order had gone ignored, the king repeated it in a voice that made Arthur squirm.

"Merlin, I_ said_ put your feet down." The child obeyed this time and when Uther caught sight of the novel, he sighed, "Merlin, what have I told you about reading at the table?"

"I'm sorry," the raven-head muttered, "It was 'bout dragons."

Surprisingly, this comment made Uther snort with laughter, "That does indeed sound thrilling. But I'm sure it can wait until _after_ supper. Angus, kindly remove it."

Merlin reluctantly handed the book to the servant and as he brought his hand back, he adjusted the bandana he had around his neck, for the evening was hot and his neck was beginning to sweat. Uther noticed this.

"Does it itch, Merlin?" He asked, as the child rubbed the sore patch of skin for the second time.

"A little." He replied, trying to focus on his dinner rather than the king.

"If it continues to itch, you may take it off. It is servant's clothing after all."

"I'd rather not Papa."

They continued dining in silence, though Uther's eyes continued to gaze concernedly over the now slightly sweaty raven-head whose neck seemed to be sweltering under the thick scarf around his neck.

"Merlin, it's too hot to be wearing that." The king said at last, tired of keeping his opinions sealed, "I insist you take it off."

"But I don't want to Papa."

"I am not asking anymore, Merlin. Angus!"

Merlin's hands flew up desperately to protect his neck but by then the servant had already untied the back of his bandana and soon the cool evening air had wrapped itself around his wet skin. The necklace Arthur gave him fell out over his chest, catching both the light and Uther's attention.

"What is that Merlin?"

Arthur hunched up in his chair. Noticing this, Merlin simply replied, "A present..."

Recognising the piece of jewelry, the colour drained from Uther's face and he slowly rose from the table to get a closer look. There was no mistake - it was the same necklace, pearl and all. He knelt beside Merlin's chair and took the child's shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Where did you get this Merlin?"

The child, now so terribly frightened he couldn't even make something up, carefully stuttered, "A-Arthur gave it to me."

Arthur felt the water well up in his eyes as he imagined what was going to happen next. Uther did not fly into a rage as he expected, which only worried him more.

"Give it to me Merlin."

The boy glanced down at the beautiful piece of jewelry in horror, "But...it's mine-"

"Merlin." The voice went slightly cold, "Do as I say."

Biting his lip, the little one carefully pulled the necklace over his head and placed it into the king's waiting palm; he did not appreciate how Uther stuffed it into his pocket as if it were a mere thimble. The king then calmly stood and asked Arthur to leave the room.

"But Papa-"

"I will be up to talk to you later." This sentence came without eye contact, "Merlin, you stay here and finish your supper."

Now sobbing, Arthur quickly pulled back his chair and left the dining room, knees practically knocking together. Merlin watched after him as Uther seated himself back down and then tearfully asked, "Are you angry Papa?"

"No." Uther replied, with a gentle smile, "Not with you."

"I don't want you to be angry with Arthur."

"It was very bad of Arthur to give that necklace to you. And bad behaviour needs to be punished."

"But..." Merlin trailed off, unable to understand, "...he didn't do anything wrong. It was a present."

Unable to listen to the choked voice any longer, the king rose from his seat again and went over to gently caress the upset child, wishing he were old enough to understand the situation.

"This is for your own good, Merlin." He muttered, as the boy pressed his hot cheeks against his father's chest, "Someday you will understand that."

**~oOo~**

When Merlin found Arthur several hours later, he knew something was amiss. Arthur was quiet - trembling but not crying and when his brother entered, he barely noticed. The raven-head carefully pulled himself onto the bed beside him and when the time was right, draped a comforting arm around his neck.

"M'sorry."

"S'okay." Arthur muttered in reply, resting his head on Merlin's shoulder, "Weren't _your_ fault."

"Was Papa angry?"

"He shouted at me."

Merlin quivered at the thought, "I heard."

"It was scary."

"Then what did he do?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you."

"_Arthur_."

The golden-haired boy sighed, "He said I'm never to show you that necklace again."

"But why? It's just a necklace. Why is it so-?"

"I _said_, I'm not allowed to tell you Merlin. Now just drop it, alright?" The eldest prince snapped, pulling away from his brother and flopping down on his bed again, face stuffed into his pillow.

"Arthur? Arthur, I'm sorry." Merlin reached over and tugged at his shoulder, "Arthur?"

"Go away."

"_Arthur_."

"Just leave me be!"

Hurt and upset, Merlin obeyed, lips trembling in an attempt not to sob out loud. He was well aware of Arthur breaking out into his own tears as he shut the door, but pretended that he hadn't heard; just for the prince's sake. He wandered miserably around the hallways until he bumped straight into George, who immediately fell over backwards due to his lack of balance.

"Oh...sorry George." The raven-head quickly pulled the younger boy back to his feet, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," George replied plainly, "Are _you_ alright Merlin?"

"No." Merlin replied, "Arthur's pulling a hissy."

"I see. Why don't we play a game?"

"Which game?"

"Hide-and-seek?"

"Alright. As long as I get to hide first."

At least playing with George was a distraction. It helped soothe the ache that had begun to grow in Merlin, as day by day he was beginning to realise that something was seriously wrong in the family. He was young, yes, that was for sure. But youth does not make one stupid. He wanted to find out more about that necklace and it's value. And he knew exactly who to ask.


	21. Information from Gaius

"Gaius, who does that necklace belong to?"

The physician paused a moment, leaving his experiment to bubble away angrily, "Which necklace do you speak of, Merlin?"

"Well...it's silver and it has a pearl on it. And it has a shape like this." His fingers made an oval shape.

At this, Gaius seemed to stiffen, "I see."

"Who did it belong to Gaius?" The child looked up at him curiously, as he managed to soothe the raging liquid by quickly adding water, "Arthur gave it to me and then Papa took it away and said I was never allowed to see it again. How did Arthur get it? Who gave it to him?"

"I'm afraid that's not my place to say, Merlin."

"Please Gaius. Papa won't tell me but I know that's what's been bugging him these few days. You have to tell me. I...I_ order_ you to!"

Gaius felt the sides of his lips twitch at Merlin's sudden fiery temper; for a few moments he mirrored his brother Arthur when in one of his moods. He calmly collected his supplies and stored them away whilst Merlin sat close to tears, arms folded, lips threatening to give way and utter a sob at any minute.

"You're too wild, Merlin." Gaius replied at last in a warm voice, "It's nothing to get fussed over."

"I want to know." Merlin said miserably.

"The king would surely fly into a rage if you ever found out."

"But why?"

Gaius was not a cruel man, and it left a few wounds seeing the young prince so deeply hurt and confused. Sighing, he pulled up a chair and sat opposite the boy.

"I fear the king will have my head if he finds out I supplied this information to you."

Merlin's eyes lit up, "I'll never tell Gaius! Honest!"

Deciding he'd have to trust the child on this occasion, Gaius began, "The necklace in which you speak of is something called a pendant, Merlin. It was made by those with magic."

"Magic! Like me!"

"It's a family heirloom, passed down from many generations."

"So...who had it before me?"

Gaius looked quite stung for a moment and then he said in a low voice, "Well...it...I suppose it belonged to your mother."

Merlin blinked, "Mama? Is that all? Why wouldn't Papa tell me?"

"No, my dear child, not Ygraine. The pendant must have belonged to-"

A rapping at the door interrupted their thoughts and Merlin leaped in fright. It was only Angus, thank the Gods.

"Merlin, your cat got 'er 'ead stuck in one of Cook's pots again." The servant handed the young prince back his kitten and when he noticed his red eyes, carefully tilted his chin up so they made eye contact, "Have you been crying?"

"A little."

"My dear boy," Angus stooped to his level, gently caressing his cheek, "Whatever for?"

Merlin sighed and pressed his cheek against the servant's palm, "It's not important Angus."

"As long as you ent hurt."

"No, no I'm not..." He quickly curled his hand with his servant's, "I think I want to go to bed now. I don't feel very well."

Angus felt his forehead, "You are stormin' up a sweat. I'll get ye to bed lad. Do you want something hot to get you t'sleep?"

"Please."

Before leaving, the child turned to Gaius and pressed a finger against his own lips to symbolise him never repeating the conversation that had just occurred and then quickly followed Angus back to he and Arthur's chambers. He could benefit from an early night.


	22. Morgana Le Fay

"Papa?" Merlin knocked with slight fear on the door to his father's chambers and keeled back slightly as it opened and Uther appeared in the doorway, "There's something I want to talk to you about-"

"Ah Merlin," Uther barely comprehended the child's sentence, "I'm glad you knocked. Where is Arthur?"

"In his room."

"Go and fetch him. I have a surprise for you both in the throne room."

When Merlin mentioned this 'surprise' to Arthur, the elder prince was anything but optimistic.

"Why would he treat _me_?" He said, as they took to the staircase, "After what I did, I'm surprised he hasn't lengthened my bedtime."

"I'm sure he isn't angry with you anymore."

"He was livid Merlin, you didn't see his eyes."

They reached the throne room and were at once greeted by the king again, who seemed unusually distracted.

Arthur look distrusting, "Papa, what's going on?"

Uther's mood suddenly changed and his eyes flickered as he inhaled carefully, "There's someone I want you to meet, boys."

Merlin blinked, "Who?"

"Oh no," The blonde put his hands over his mouth, "You aren't going to get married again, are you?"

"Ye Gods, Arthur, no." Uther said quickly, "No, this is someone I think you'll get along with just fine."

Before the children could question him further, he pulled open the doors to the throne room and gently pushed them in. Behind his screen of hair, Merlin observed a small girl sitting on Uther's throne timidly, hands curled together as she stared blankly at her own shoes. She was sickly pale and looked angry; her ebony hair fell evenly over her face and stuck to her lips so she had to constantly fold it back into place. Her dress was black and slightly dirty. Her green eyes flickered a moment to focus on Merlin's face and when they did, she gave a curt but respectful nod.

"So…" Uther watched the princes' expressions anxiously, "What do you think?"

Arthur shrugged, "She's scary…Papa, I know I'm the Crown Prince but I'd rather wait until I'm _older_ before choosing a wife."

Uther almost laughed, "Arthur, you are not betrothed to her."

The blonde looked confused, "Oh…is she betrothed to Merlin then?"

Merlin looked aghast, "What does that mean?"

"Boys, boys, calm down." Uther cut in, "She's not betrothed to either of you."

"Then who is she?"

Deciding not to bend straws, Uther went over to the throne and carefully placed his hands on the girl's shoulders. She didn't react to the touch; she was too focused on Merlin.

"Arthur, Merlin…this is Morgana." He seemed to hesitate before going on, "…she's your new sister."


	23. Bittersweet meeting

Morgana Le Fay was the result of one of Uther's past mistakes; a fair maiden named Vivienne who'd been a comfort to the king whilst his wife was sick from the birth of Arthur. She was a dark-haired woman with emerald eyes that told a story; Uther hadn't meant for it to go so far as sexual intercourse, but the lack of satisfaction from his wife made it all the more difficult for him to resist. Morgana had been born shortly after Merlin's own birth, making her only a few months younger. Vivienne contracted a terrible disease after labour which killed her when Morgana was only three. More unfortunate for the girl, the only father she ever knew, Gorlois, was slain in battle in the Northern Plains, leaving her an orphan. Word had been sent to her biological father and Uther deemed it only right for her to be taken into his care. It was unclear over how she felt about the situation.

The words didn't really sink in. Merlin kept blinking at her, wondering if she'd disappear in a puff of smoke if he blinked hard enough. Arthur had a similar reaction; he glared at her with such a force, it was a miracle the windows didn't crack from the heat of his gaze.

Uther was uncertain of the emotions in the room, "Say something boys."

Merlin's lips twitched and he carefully approached her as if he feared she'd bite him.

"Hello Morgana…" he said in a rush and leaned over to kiss her.

Her cheek was cold but for some reason seemed to flush slightly red when the kiss was planted upon it. For a moment, it looked like she might smile.

Her calm complexion made Merlin nervous so his brain fuzzed all of a sudden and went into a spasm; he was aware of a pot exploding somewhere outside in the hallway. His brother quickly reached out and caught his hand to calm him down. It wasn't enough to soothe his own temper.

"She ent our sister."

Uther looked baffled, "Arthur-"

"She ent! Mama never had another! She would have told us!"

The king winced at the child's innocence, "No Arthur, you don't have the same mother. But…Morgana is my daughter. She's your _half _sister."

"But…how is that possible?" Merlin asked.

Prepared for this question, Uther replied, "You have to understand boys…while your mother was ill I…I was very lonely. I met a woman named Vivienne-"

"You had an affair!" Arthur cried, eyes widening with shock, "Papa, how _could_ you?"

"It was a difficult time for me." Uther went on calmly, "But you have to understand, I loved your mother. When she died, it broke my heart. But only a week ago I received new that Vivienne had passed and…I discovered I had a daughter."

It still didn't seem real.

"I don't like her." Arthur muttered.

Uther's expression darkened, "_Arthur-_"

"I don't like her! She looks like a witch!"

"Arthur Pendragon!"

"I know exactly what she is! She's a bastard!"

Morgana said nothing in response. She just stared at him.

"Arthur! You're never to say a word like that again, _do_ you hear me?" Uther thundered.

"She's a filthy, stinking bastard and I hate her! And I hate _you!_"

The prince then did the unthinkable and spat so a ball of slaver hit the floor in the king's direction before turning heel and running before he was caught and given a merry thrashing that would surely have his rear smarting for weeks to come. Uther decided against going after him and instead left him to Angus; he pretended that incident had never occurred and smiled upon Merlin as if he were in the greatest of moods.

"At least one of my sons knows how to behave like a gentleman."

Merlin shifted uneasily, unsure of whether to copy Arthur and pull a similar fit, to run after his brother or stay put like the obedient child he was. He chose the smartest option.

"You shouldn't have had an affair, Papa…" he said with moist eyes, "It was nice meeting you Morgana."

He bowed stiffly and left without looking at either of them.


	24. Loved and chastised

Arthur pulled a wild tantrum that night. He locked himself in his chambers and refused to come out; Merlin was aware of the sound of several items being broken from inside but that was the least of his worries. He'd never seen Arthur in such a mood and it frightened him. The king didn't show his face for the rest of the evening; he was too busy tending to Morgana. Angus remained at the chamber door until the yelling had died down from inside and when it had, he craftily snuck his hand into his belt and fished out a spare key to the door. He was greeted by a pillow that sailed over his head and hit the wall outside; Merlin feared the servant would end up with a broken arm if he tried to restrain the shrieking prince – he knew from past experiences that this was possible. But Angus was skilled.

Within seconds, Arthur's arms were pinned to his sides and he was trapped under the servant's arm with no chance of escape. He refused to calm down and continued kicking, which was the final straw for Angus. He shifted so he was in a more comfortable position and then turned to Merlin.

"You may shut your eyes if you wish."

Merlin threw his hands over his face quickly as he was never one to stomach physical punishment. He was sensible to the hand slapping against the seat of the thick breeches Arthur wore but did his best not to picture it in his mind. The beating worked, as Arthur's curses softened and turned to uncontrollable weeping, to the point where Angus decided enough was enough and gently released him. Merlin found the courage to pull his hands from his eyes and watched as his elder brother slowly found it within him to breathe properly again. He looked rough; his face was red, throat raw from the screaming and his knuckles…

"Arthur!" Merlin cried in horror, "Your hand!"

Arthur made a fist and the split lines across his knuckles became apparent.

"Ye Gods, Arthur." Angus took the wounded hand and examined the damage, "What did you do to yourself?"

"Punched the wall." Arthur whispered.

"Figures. Your bones are showing."

The blonde looked up in horror, eyes bulging.

"Calm your stockings lad, I were jesting with you." He carefully took the prince's hand and started kissing the sore bits.

"Ow Angus! It's smarting worse than my hide!"

"Your hide _should_ smart after that hissy fit you pulled! Be thankful I'm not your father!"

The prince shuddered and clung to the servant, "Get a bandage from Gaius for it, _please_."

Merlin went to Gaius to receive one, stepping over the several smashed vases that Arthur had hurled at the wall and when he returned, found the prince in a much lighter mood, being tickled by Angus.

"Why does she have to stay?" Arthur said miserably, as the bandages were wound around his aching hand, "I don't want her here."

"I know Arthur, but whether you like it or not, she's your sister."

"Well, I'm never speaking to her. And if I ever do, she'll never get a nice word out of me. And I'm never speaking to Papa either. I hate his guts."

"I can't say I completely blame you." The servant tore the bandage with his teeth and carefully tied a knot, "I could never do what he did. While the queen was sick as well…"

Merlin felt himself retch.

Angus called, "Come and sit with us, Merlin."

Merlin feared he'd regurgitate if he moved a muscle, but managed to shuffle over and pull himself onto Angus' lap, crossing his legs over Arthur's.

"I believe this belongs to you." Angus pulled out a familiar red scarf from his pocket and began winding it around the little one's neck, "I washed it for you."

"Thank you Angus."

"And you," The man found a handkerchief in his pocket and began dabbing over the peaks of Arthur's eyelids which were tinted pink, "Better clean tha' face o'yours. You look a right sight!"

Merlin reached down and pulled his stockings up higher, "I hate Papa too…"

"No you don't." Angus replied, "Neither of you do. Your anger will pass." He sighed at their misery, "If not now, then one day."

There was a soft knock at the door and Morgana came in holding George's hand. At the sight of her, Arthur growled and buried his face into Angus' shirt furiously. Merlin crossed his legs.

"I have to take George to bed now," Angus managed to unlatch Arthur from his shirt front, "No killing each other, y'hear? You all need your sleep."

Angus retrieved his son and left the chambers with him, giving Morgana time to shuffle over to the spare bed in the corner and place her boots upon it.

"You're not sleeping in here," Arthur spat, "You can go and sleep with the dogs."

Merlin flinched, "_Arthur_."

"Fine." Morgana replied in a raspy voice, which shocked both of them as they previously came to the conclusion that she couldn't speak.

The witch-like girl pulled one of the blankets off the bed and walked coolly out of the chambers with it, down to the kitchen near the hearth where the greyhound bitch and her pups slept. Satisfied, Arthur began to get dressed for bed.

Stomach clenching, Merlin ran to the basin in the hall and abruptly threw up the contents of his breakfast into it.


	25. Mild friendship

Arthur was true to his word. Over a month passed and his hatred for Morgana grew; if he ever did utter a word to her, it was spiteful and cold, which would only lengthen her silence and anger him further. Merlin would generally keep away from her, though sometimes when passing her in the hallways they'd brush against each other or turn and give the most delicate of smiles. He didn't hate her, he had no reason to. But he swore to himself that he could never love her. She was simply someone that he knew and had a mild fondness for.

But his slight affection for her became apparent one morning, as the two princes were disturbed of their breakfast by a mighty brawl coming from the kitchen. Arthur had stayed behind, but Merlin unknowingly followed his father to where the din was occurring to find the green-eyed girl struggling in the arms of Thisbe, screaming like a pig being taken for the slaughter.

"Ye Gods, what have you done to her?" Uther thundered, as two of the kitchen staff intervened to stop the girl from kicking.

"I did nothing!" Thisbe snapped in return, "We only suggested we give her a bath to clean her up a bit and she just blew her top!"

Several maids appeared behind the king at the doorway and on seeing them, the furious girl pulled himself away from Thisbe's arms and softened her screaming. She walked icily towards the three startled maids who peered down at the wretched little thing with pity. After studying their faces for some time, her mood changed and she started wailing and ran back to Thisbe, wrapping her arms around her waist and drowning her front apron with her sobs. Baffled, Uther sidled up to the maid and murmured to her ear.

"Who is she looking for?"

"Her mother, of course." By now Thisbe was dabbing at her own eyes with a shrivelled handkerchief, "I pity the poor wretch! So new to the world and already without a mother. I heard she was wandering the palace all night looking for her, following the maids everywhere, hoping she's one of them. Such an unfortunate little soul! So much love in her heart, yet no one to love her!"

Merlin, who'd been unusually quiet up until this point, let go of his Elizabeth's hand and walked distinctively up towards the distressed girl, unlatching her arms from around Thisbe's waist and turning her around so their bright little eyes met each other properly for the first time. He spoke unto her like his father did the servants.

"Stop that. What good are you doing, crying like that?"

The sobs went quiet and became pathetic little whimpers an injured dog would make. She had a young face, a face younger than Merlin's. The raven-head held onto her hand, thumb sticking out to carefully pat the skin.

"It were an accident" he said kindly, "She didn't mean to die. But she did. She's up there with the Gods now, and she's smiling down on you with your Papa. Can you smile too?"

A moment's pause bought the inhalation of breath from the children's onlookers, which was only exhaled when the sound of ripe laughter escaped the little girl's lips. She wiped his flush cheeks and instantly entwined hands with her new royal friend as if the previous incident had never happened.

They were quite thick after that, Merlin and Morgana. The distance between them as still great as they were two very different people. But there would be days when Morgana would knock on his chamber door – when Arthur was out practicing sword fighting and Angus was with George – and they would run away into the moors together, messing around until they returned to the castle looking like they'd been for a dip in a mud bath.

Their friendship annoyed Arthur to no end. He would make Morgana's life a misery and paid no heed to the punishments he received from it. He had received a thorough shaking from Uther after pushing his sister under a horse near the stables one day, though fortunately for her it had stopped in time. Merlin did not approve of his bitter behaviour but he understood it. He just wished that Arthur wouldn't constantly take his hatred for his father out on Morgana.

It was a difficult time. But as far as young Merlin was concerned, the worst was yet to come.

**~END OF PART THREE ~**


	26. Part 4 - The torment of execution

**~PART FOUR~**

"No Papa! You _can't!_"

Uther forced himself to ignore the eleven-year-old boy who clutched at his sleeve in desperation and continued walking, gently brushing the child off.

"It has to be done Merlin."

"No!" The boy refused to back down; he charged after his father and clung to his robes, "She did nothing wrong! She doesn't deserve this!"

"Merlin-"

"She only used magic! Where is the crime in that?"

Not wishing to discuss the matter at that moment in time, Uther held up his hand for silence.

"Go back to your chambers Merlin."

The raven-head remained stubborn and suddenly leapt in front of the king, blocking him before he reached the balcony where he always overlooked the executions.

"Papa, I _beg_ you!" Merlin fell to his knees, grasping his father's robes, "Have mercy on her! _Please!_"

Slightly humbled, Uther gently reached over and caressed the boy's cheek, brushing away the tears that had made their way past his eyes.

"I know you're upset Merlin. But it's out of my hands now." He caught the boy's chin with his thumb and forefinger and carefully lifted his head to meet his eyes, "I'm sorry."

He nodded at Angus, who took the prince's arm and led him back to his chambers. Several times Merlin glanced back, hoping, praying his father would reconsider. But the king never looked back and he was aware of the door to the balcony opening and then closing again with a clatter. As soon as they were in the privacy of his chambers, Angus sat down on the bed and Merlin put his head on his lap, face hidden in the servant's breeches. Angus put a hand on the prince's back to comfort the boy as the drums rolled like thunder from outside, making his whole body tense. He gripped the bed sheets, nails digging into the mattress. He wished he could go back to the days when he knew not of the horrors that occurred in the courtyard each week or so. He was now old enough to understand the meaning of an execution and it distressed him to no end. He was still oblivious to the fact that magic was illegal in Camelot and would often wonder what on Earth the victim had done to deserve such a bitter end.

Per usual, his response was always, "Something bad."

The drums rolled harder and then when silent. Then came the part where his father started talking. He knew it was coming, that it was only a matter of time. Angus felt the beating of the prince's heart hammering against his knee as he held the boy in place, fingers carefully stretching out into a comforting stroke to soothe the tears that were about to come.

Silence. And then the sharp scrape of the axe as it tore through human flesh.

Merlin wept after that. He sat up, threw his arms around Angus and wept uncontrollably.

"Oh Angus!" He exclaimed through the tears, "Why, _why_ must he do it? I felt it Angus, I felt her pain! What did she do to deserve such an end Angus, what did she do?"

"Ssssh, my little flower, you'll make yeself sick." Angus spoke into the boy's hair and his gentle tone only brought more tears to Merlin's eyes, "There now, calm down little one. It's all over."

This was what usually occurred after an execution. It took several hours – and lots of hugs and kisses from Angus – before Merlin could actually stomach going down to supper with his father. He met Morgana on the stairs and from the red patches on her eyes, he could see she was in a similar mood.

"You been crying?" He asked, nose blocked.

"Yes." She replied, "Did you watch it?"

"Papa wouldn't let me. And I wouldn't have watched it anyway."

"I wasn't allowed either. But I watched from my window. Then Thisbe and I cried together."

"I don't think I want supper tonight."

"Me neither. But let's go anyway."

They walked the rest of the way holding hands before they met Arthur near the dining room, whereupon Merlin hastily pulled his hand away. Arthur ignored Morgana with pleasure but went straight to Merlin and carefully kissed his sore eyelids.

"I'm sorry Merlin."

"S'okay..." The raven-head felt close to weeping again, "Did you watch?"

"Yes, but I closed my eyes at the last minute. Loads of blood there was-"

"Don't!" Merlin covered his ears, "Please don't!"

"Sorry, I forgot…are you up for supper?"

"No."

"You can give it to the dog when no one's looking. Better than you sicking it up all night."

"Did you cry Arthur?"

The blonde looked insulted, "Course not."

"You did so! Your eyes are sore too."

"Merlin, I'm thirteen in a fortnight. I'm too old for crying."

Elizabeth called them in to eat and Morgana left straight away. The other two hung back as Arthur whispered to his brother.

"I may have wept a little. I just hated the noise, that's all. You won't tell her, will you?"

"Morgana? No, I won't tell."

"Thanks..." He drew breath and added, "I threw up as well..."

"Oh Arthur..."

"_Promise_ you won't tell?"

"May I catch a fever if I ever do."

They smiled nervously and entered the dining room, though both knew there wouldn't be much eating after what they'd just witnessed.


	27. The cruelty of a king

"Angus, please explain to me why my daughter is standing in the middle of our garden pond."

The servant stopped scrubbing George's face and replied to the king, "Thisbe told her she was dirty and she needed a bathe. So she made herself as dirty as possible to avoid one."

"She's wicked!" George exclaimed.

"Well, kindly ask Thisbe to get her out. She'll catch her death." Uther turned to look out of the window again, "Have you seen Merlin and Arthur?"

"Arthur was playing with Juno earlier – though it's some miracle that dog is still breathing – but I haven't seen Merlin."

"Well, look for him then. And get Morgana out of that damned pond. She looks like a wet dog."

"With all due respect sire…" Angus hissed, "They're _your_ children, not mine. Perhaps _you_ should take responsibility for once."

In a matter of seconds, Uther had turned and violently backhanded the servant across the right cheek; so forcefully he lost his balance and ended up on the floor. George stopped playing with his toys and when he saw Angus on the ground he cried, "Papa!" and ran to him straight away.

Unsympathetically, Uther cracked his knuckles, "You ought to learn your place Angus. You are_ my_ servant and you go by _my_ orders. Talk like that will have you in the stocks before you're thirty. Now do as I say you insolent brat."

George narrowed his eyes at him and carefully placed a kiss against the red patch on his father's cheek. Shoulders heaving, Angus fought to keep the strength not to break down in front of his child. He'd never been struck in such a way, with such velocity.

He gritted his teeth until they felt like breaking, and replied in a vicious hiss, "Yes sire…"

**~oOo~**

"Merlin, don't let Papa catch you doing that, he'd be mad." Arthur said from his bed without looking up.

"Sorry..." Merlin replied, eyes flashing gold again so Agnes was safely lowered back to the floor. He'd been wary of Arthur lately and it seemed the last thing he wanted to do was vex his brother again.

"There's a right din going on outside."

"Thisbe tried to make Morgana have a bath again. She said she was too dirty, so Morgana's been standing in the middle of the pond since morning claiming that she's going to make herself dirtier."

"Stupid witch." Arthur muttered, "She's filthy."

"She makes me laugh." Merlin said daringly, "Look at her – kicking and screaming over the thought of being clean!"

"She's nothing but a tool. Why does Father insist on housing a brat like her?"

Merlin sighed. George entered seconds later with a pot of flowers and began sorting them on Arthur's bedside table in silence. This was unusual; as George often had something to say. Mostly about brass that is.

"Are you alright George?" Arthur asked with mild concern, "You look sad."

George nodded briskly, though tears slipped down his cheeks.

"George!" Merlin went to him immediately and gave him a cuddle, "What happened? Has someone been teasing you?"

"No…" the servant replied in a small voice.

"Then why are you crying?"

George's face twisted at the memory, "The king slapped Papa…"

Arthur's eyes widened in horror, "Father struck Angus? The _beast!_ How dare he?"

"He's the king." George whined, "He can do what he pleases."

"I hate him." Arthur said harshly, "I hope he catches a plague!"

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed, "Once you utter a curse, you can't take it back!"

George whimpered miserably.

"C'mon Merlin, cheer the little bugger up. Make something fly." Arthur said.

Drawing breath, Merlin decided one spell couldn't hurt and carefully let go of the servant to outstretch his arms. He focused on his palms a while and suddenly a flame appeared on each of them, making George's eyes light up.

"How do you _do_ that? Doesn't it hurt?"

Merlin blushed modestly, "Not really."

George's lips stretched and soon turned into a grin, "You're _amazing_ Merlin."


	28. Uther's confliction

Uther was at a loose end.

Perhaps he had been too harsh with his manservant, but there was no point dwelling over that event now. He was still angered by the trial and execution; the filthy hag had been caught casting spells in public and he hadn't thought twice about putting her to death. The thought of magic sickened him and he fought not to punch a wall to vent his anger.

"Damn them all…" he muttered, "I hope they all burn…"

He tossed his head in fury when he remembered Merlin and silently tried to force the words back down his throat. Merlin was everything to him; the idea of him ever suffering such a painful death…it pushed tears to the eyes.

Perhaps he was being too hasty about this. Perhaps Gaius was right about Ygraine's death. Was Nimueh's sorcery _really_ to blame? And if it was, did others really need to suffer for her deed?

Was magic a blessing other than a curse?

No, magic was evil. It had taken his beloved from him and now he had to keep it as far away from his children as possible before it stole them as well. The only person he trusted with magic was Merlin. But even the child could grow up to be dangerous someday.

But Merlin, a threat? He was the sweetest little lamb you could come across. The very idea was laughable.

But Uther remained conflicted. He collapsed into his armchair and didn't emerge from his chambers for the rest of the night.


	29. Mischief making

Merlin had grown tired of following Thisbe about on her errands; the market was hardly an adventure and all they ever did was collect spices for Cook or yarn for Angus to darn his socks with. Granted the prince earned quite a few stares when out in public, but the peasant children were too afraid to approach him and the adults merely bowed respectively and shuffled out of his way.

He seized the opportunity to cause mischief.

As soon as Thisbe's back was turned, he looked about the courtyard and caught sight of the Blacksmith's horse tied up to its post, drinking water from a bucket. He glanced once more at Thisbe before his eyes flashed gold and he waited for the trouble to start.

Within the seconds, the old horse had attempted to pull his muzzle from the bucket only to find it was stuck fast and refusing to budge. Going into a panic, it began tossing its head to get the wretched thing off, only to back up and knock a flaming torch over. Several people came rushing out to calm the steed, including Tom the Blacksmith who had just been shaping horse shoes in his workshop. His daughter, Gwen, who was also Morgana's serving maid, came out also and started giggling in a mixture of fear and excitement as the horse rose on its hind legs and the flaming coal spread along the pebbles. The sudden heat startled one of the peasant's dogs and in its clumsiness it knocked over a pen full of chickens; they escaped over the courtyard which only frightened the stuck horse further and caused him to break free from his chain.

Merlin smirked as the chaos ensued around him. Thisbe had hurried off to participate in getting the chickens back in their coup whilst several people attempted to calm the fleeing horse. Satisfied with the mess he'd made, he turned around to make it back to the palace, only to be caught under a glare that froze his blood to ice.

It wasn't the eyes of Uther. Much worse. When he dared look up, he was staring into the eyes of his older brother.


	30. The truth slips

Arthur didn't say a word as he dragged his brother by the collar back to the castle – he ignored the string of pleas and apologies that came from the raven-head's mouth and as soon as they were in the throne room, Merlin was carelessly tossed onto the floor.

"You_ idiot!_" Arthur exclaimed, eyes piercing into the child below him, "You_ know_ you're not supposed to use magic in public! What were you _thinking_?!"

Merlin continued to shake, "I'm sorry-"

"_Sorry?_" Arthur picked him off the floor and began shaking him vigorously, "Papa will make you sorry when he finds out! He'll break your back for it! You're such a _fool_ Merlin! Do you want to get yourself killed!?"

"Killed?" For a moment, Merlin found the sense in him to laugh, "What are you on about Arthur? I won't get killed! You're just being silly!"

"That's what you think!" Arthur pushed him away, "But trust me, if you use magic again people are going to want your head!"

"They can't have my head! I'm a prince! And anyway, why would they want it? Magic isn't a crime!"

Arthur felt his lips go dry, "Don't use magic again Merlin."

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do!" The raven-head snapped, tired of being silent, "I can use my magic when I want! No one else saw me anyway! And if Papa asks I'll just say I couldn't help it! Ye Gods Arthur, you're such a bully sometimes!"

"I'm a_ bully_? I'm doing my best to make sure you aren't hanging by the noose by the time you're twenty, you ungrateful cur!"

"Why do you keeping talking like that? And besides, it's none of your business what I do in my spare time! I'd be grateful if you kept your nose _out_ of my affairs, Arthur Pendragon! You're such a _nuisance!_"

Arthur lost it then, "You _brat!_ You stubborn, spoilt brat! How _dare_ you speak to me like that; do you have any idea of how_ grateful_ you should be to me?! I'm the one who's been keeping my mouth shut all these years just to keep your filthy little secret! I don't know why I bother sometimes, you're not even my real brother-!"

He cut off and his hands flew to his mouth. Merlin's expression changed and he stared at Arthur, horrified. The elder brother watched as both his eyes filled up with water and spilled over.


	31. Confessions of the king

Uther had been called about the disturbance in the courtyard and immediately knew who the culprit could have been. He decided he would have to punish Merlin roundly for his disobedience and after being tipped off by Elizabeth, headed towards the throne room to find his youngest son. As soon as he opened the doors, Merlin flew into his arms - which came as a great surprise – and took to sobbing miserably into his chest.

"Merlin?" Uther stared down at the child, baffled, "What's the matter?"

Merlin's head lifted to meet his eyes, "Oh Papa, Arthur said the cruellest thing!"

Uther's gaze fell on Arthur, who was still seething in anger and he replied, "What did he say?"

"He said he wasn't my real brother! Why would he say such an awful thing? He ought to be scolded Papa, he's wicked!"

He began crying again, whilst Arthur's fists clenched.

"_Tell_ him father!"

Uther felt the heat reaching his cheeks as his son stood before him, trembling from the rage. His hand reached up and ran through Merlin's layers of hair. It was soft, like a kitten's fur.

"Tell him the _truth_ father!" Arthur repeated, foot stamping to prove his point, "I'm sick of your lies! Tell him the _truth_!"

"What is he talking about Papa?" Merlin whined, clinging to the king harder, "Make him stop!"

"_Tell_ him!" Arthur screamed, furious tears leaking out from his eyes and landing on the floor below, "He has a right to know!"

Uther was beyond saying anything. He cuddled Merlin close and pressed a cheek against his soft, scented hair.

"My baby…" he felt himself whispering.

"He's _not!_" Arthur couldn't shout anymore. He covered his eyes with his hands and wailed.

Merlin joined him in tears and the noise attracted Angus, who found the king clutching the youngest boy with the other one a few feet way, weeping to the brink of breaking his own heart.

"Take Arthur to his chambers Angus." The king said quietly.

The servant carefully approached the distressed child, put an arm around him and silently escorted him from the throne room, whereupon Uther managed to pull away from his youngest son and shut the doors. Merlin wiped away his tears and looked to his father for answers.

"Why would he say that to me Papa?" His bottom lip trembled, threatening to utter another sob, "I know I did magic when I wasn't suppose to but I couldn't help it! It _hurts_ not to use it sometimes. I get so bored-"

"Sit down Merlin."

The order was swift but gentle. Merlin gazed at the long table in the middle of the room, the table the family always dined at and cautiously took a seat, worried by the king's tone. Uther took a seat next to him and as soon as he was sitting, plunged his face into his hands.

"Papa, what's wrong?"

It took a while for the king to reply. He leaned back in his chair and quickly drew breath before digging into his pocket and pulling out a familiar piece of jewelery; the necklace Merlin thought he'd never see again.

"I understand this has been the subject of your attention for many years now?"

Merlin's eyes widened at the sight of it, "I…I thought you'd destroyed it."

Uther laughed at this, "I could never destroy something to precious."

Merlin swallowed, throat suddenly aching for a drink, "I was told it was my mother's."

"You were told right." Uther gathered up the nerves for the speech he had been preparing himself for for years now, "But not from the mother you think…"

"Then…who did it belong to Papa?"

Uther could not bring himself to look at the child. The sheer, genuine confusion in the lad's eyes was too much even for a man like the king. He felt his eyes glassed over and his throat went tight. After a few minutes of pulling himself together, he replied:

"My dear Merlin…it belonged to your birth mother."

Merlin blinked, eyelashes fluttering, "Birth mother? What does that mean Papa?"

"…Merlin, when you were an infant, something tragic happened. Your birth mother was murdered trying to save your life. And your father…her death scarred him terribly and he felt it was only right for you to be raised without the knowledge of what happened to her. After Ygraine died…I allowed my judgement to cloud my feelings for you and I ordered every sorcerer in Camelot to be persecuted."

Merlin was watching him with intense concentration, eyes gazing at him in bewilderment.

"But…" he stuttered, "…but _you're_ my father…"

Uther shook his head, teeth gritting together. He looked away then, so he wouldn't have to see the pain in the child's eyes, "I have always considered you one of my own."

"Where is my real father?"

"I don't know, my little one. I have never known."

"He didn't want me?"

"He _did_ want you Merlin. Very much. But the grief was too much for him."

Merlin looked up to the light, eyes shining, "My mother…"

"She gave this to you shortly before she died." Uther gave a thin smile and handed it to the boy, "She used to wrap it around your wrist and you'd suck it until the colour was almost gone."

Merlin gripped the necklace harshly, "So…everything's been a lie? My name, my royalty…none of it's true?"

"Merlin.." Uther reached over and took both his hands, "You have to understand, it was for your own good. If you had known that magic was illegal in Camelot, it may have affected you permanently. But now you're older…" he trailed off, running out of the right words, "You will always be a Pendragon, Merlin. Your birthright has nothing to do with who you are."

"But Papa…why? Why all those innocent people?"

"Magic was the cause of Ygraine's death, Merlin. I was angry…I…I'm sorry."

Fresh tears found their way down Merlin's cheeks, "I thought you loved me…"

Uther looked stung, "Merlin…"

The boy tore his hands away and rose from the table, ready to flee out the door.

"Merlin!" The king caught him by the shoulder and turned him round, "Merlin, I have always loved you! Your brother loves you and your mother certainly did! Our bloodline has never affected our love for you! You are my _son!_"

"No I'm not! I'm _someone else's_ son! I've always been someone else's son and I always will be!" He started to sob, "My mother's dead, my father doesn't want me, _nobody_ wants me!"

"I wanted you Merlin, which is why I raised you as my own! Don't you see? I did everything for _you!_ I gave you a roof over your head, put food on the table, put clothes on your back, even put you before my own son at times! You're my _child_ Merlin and my feelings for you will never change!"

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, "Everything's always been a lie…you may not know it, but you already hate me. You hate my kind and therefore, you hate me."

"Merlin-"

"I wish Mama was here instead of you!" Merlin's voice rose to the point where he could be heard outside the room, "She may not have been my real mother, but she was much better than you!"

Uther felt a slight anger boiling up inside him at the mention of Ygraine, "Do_ not_ use your mother against me…"

"I mean it! She would have told me who the necklace belonged to if I had asked her! Because she was_ honest!_"

"Merlin!" Uther's body went tense with fury.

"I hate you, I bloody _hate_ you!" Merlin roared through a mixture of rage and tears as a sudden rush went through his system, "You've lied to me, you've always lied! You always say lying is a sin and you've sinned to the high heavens!"

"Do _not_ raise your voice to me!" Uther snapped back, aware that they could be heard from the corridors.

Merlin turned and went to storm out the door, face wet.

"Merlin, come back here!"

"Go to the deuce!"

His anger boiling over, Uther grabbed the child's arm and as soon as he'd turned around, slapped him across the face so his head jerked to the side. As soon as he'd done it, he felt a stab in his gut and released the boy immediately, unable to comprehend the fact he'd just struck his own child.

"Merlin…" his hand reached out to touch the burning cheek softly, "…Merlin, I'm so sorry…"

"I am your son no longer…" Merlin whispered, sniffing through his tears, "Goodbye, _my Lord_."

"Merlin, I didn't mean it!" Uther cried as his son dodged his arm and fled from the throne room, his sobs echoing against the walls of the hall. As soon as he was alone, Uther turned, kicked one of the chairs over with a furious roar and then allowed all his barriers to collapse as he broke down in the middle of the room.

* * *

***Go to the deuce = Go to the Devil.**


	32. Memories of us

Merlin wandered around in a daze for the rest of the evening. He kept thinking of what he'd been told and suddenly he remembered the brown hair, the fair skin, the loving touch. He could faintly see his mother's face – his _real_ mother's face – though it was fuzzy from his faded memory.

Suddenly it all came together.

He thought about the many executions that had taken place and his heart twisted in a knot. He had felt the sharpness of the blade, the sting of the scourge. He had felt it all. But what hurt most was that he knew his father hated him. He may have denied it, but deep down he did, he _did_ hate him. But despite what he'd said, Merlin still loved the king. There was a bond between them that was unbreakable and that only shattered his world further. He went and shut himself in one of the store rooms where he knew he wouldn't be disturbed and cried in private for a few hours. He also looked back on his life in general and realised he was grateful for it; after all, they could have just slung him in the first orphanage they saw handy and forgotten him. He wished Ygraine was there, so he could talk to her about it and hear her soft, soothing voice. He wished George was there, so he could put his head on his lap and let him comfort him. He even wished Arthur was there so he could make him laugh and tell him crying was for useless maidens.

A soft knock on the door made him leap in fright.

"Sire?"

It was not Arthur – as Arthur wouldn't have bothered knocking and certainly wouldn't have addressed him as 'sire.' And it couldn't have been Morgana either as she had finally been persuaded into the tub by Thisbe. The knob turned and Angus poked his head around the door, watching the young warlock nervously with his dark eyes.

"Saw you come in here, sire."

"Don't call me that." Merlin muttered, "I'm no prince."

"I know…" Angus said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

Merlin's head whipped up, "You _knew?_"

"Everyone knows."

The raven-head threw his head back against the wall, "Why did no one tell me?"

"We wanted to." The servant slid down next to the boy, "But the king threatened to have our heads if anyone said a word."

"Figures."

"I'm sorry Merlin."

"Don't be Angus."

They sat in silence for a while, a silence that was only interrupted when Angus drew breath and sighed.

"I've watched you grow since you were a bairn," he said in the softest tone possible, "You were always just Merlin Pendragon. The little raven-head who loved bubble baths and never drank 'is milk when he was supposed to."

Merlin was intrigued, "Angus, how was I as a bairn?"

"A fine wee one you were. Born off your mother on the eve of a Sunday I remember. Pink cheeked and scrawny you were. But as my dear Thisbe said, 'he'll grow tall. He'll grow tall someday. He'll have his father's black jade hair and his mother's eyes.' And so you do, up until this day. I shall still remember the day you were born to this day, here, when you're eleven years old."

Merlin felt his lips twitch into a smile he couldn't prevent, "Tell me more…just keep talking."

"Well…another time I remember you Merlin; you were an infant you were, barely mastered the use of your legs. For then you could stand alone and walk freely. You would have run and waddled all about till the cows came home but the queen would hear none of it. Told me to watch over you in case you fell and broke your brow. And if ever you did, you'd run to me wailing like a newborn."

Merlin giggled, "Was I really like that?"

"Aye, always one for the wars, devilish little warrant." At this, the servant tickled him, "More then I can say for my George. Never one for a fight, too tame. When you were six you would be everywhere, climbing over the palace gates after dark, sneaking out of your chambers. But your favourite place was the palace kitchens where you would sit on Thisbe's lap and listen to her sing. You could create a war between two snails if you wanted to."

"I can remember that." Merlin found he managed to laugh through the tears, "What about Morgana, Angus? Do you love _her?_"

"Of course, if love is the word for it."

Merlin wet his lips, "I like her…but not as much as Arthur. He's my world."

"Yes, I suppose he is. I remember when you were a young un', Arthur too. You were both in the orchard when Arthur sprung up behind you and tossed him onto your back. But you didn't cry, not one whimper. You laughed. You laughed and ran after him. You'd always laugh when he did that, though it must have been murder on yer back. Anyone else tried it; you'd send an ocean upon those palace walls. But never with Arthur - you'd just smile and kiss his face."

The memory made Merlin heave at the chest, "It all seemed real at the time."

At this, Angus caught his chin with his thumb and forefinger and gently turned his head to face him, "It _was_ real, little one. The king cared not of whether you were a royal or a peasant; from the moment you left the womb he swore to take care of you, to protect you. Through his eyes he has two sons and that will never change as long as he lives. Your life ent a lie, Merlin. It just happened."

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face harder into the servant's shoulder. But even Angus' offerings of wisdom did not heal his tortured soul. He'd made his decision and he decided to have it out before it was too late.

"I can't stay here Angus…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving Camelot."

The servant turned and stared at him, "Merlin, you can't-"

"I need to Angus. There's something I need to do."

"But you're only a _child_."

"I have magic Angus. I can look after myself fine." He added before the servant could speak again, "I beg you, let me go. If you tell the king, I'll be locked in my room for eternity. Don't tell anyone Angus,_ please_."

The man stared at him, and surprisingly, he nodded, "I owe you a debt Merlin. After all, everything has been my fault."

Merlin frowned in confusion.

"The night your mother died…I left the chamber door open." Already the tears were beginning to form, "She was _murdered_ Merlin. I know the king wished for that information to be disclosed from you, but it was my doing. She may still have been here, were it not for a foolish mistake."

Merlin's heart tore in half then and he quickly reached up to catch the tears before they fell and landed on Angus' lap. His finger traced over to the faint bruise on the servant's cheekbone and he stroked the sore skin gently.

"I could _never_ blame you Angus." He said in the quietest of voices, "You've always been there for me. There are times when I've loved you more than Pa- I mean, the king. Will you let me go Angus? Will you let me do this one thing?"

After several minutes of discrete hesitation, Angus glanced at the door and then whispered, "Go now child and I'll distract the guards for you."

Merlin's eyes widened in excitement, "You'd do that for me, Angus?"

"I would."

He took the child's hand, led him out of the storeroom and to the back door which led out to the fields where the servants worked.

"Here," The servant draped a hooded cloak around the child and gave him a bag of bread and water, "Keep yourself warm." It was obvious he was on the brink of tears.

"Don't cry Angus." Merlin said sweetly, "My magic will protect me. I'll be alright."

The servant bent down and kissed his face several times, "I'll miss you little one."

"Goodbye Angus."

Movement came from behind them and Merlin quickly turned and started running across the fields, turning up his hood as the thunder rolled from above and it began to rain. His tears disguised from the raindrops, Angus watched after the boy from the doorway until the darkness had claimed him.

"Goodbye…my sweet, sweet Emrys."


	33. Merlin's departure

Uther had been pacing the castle for the past hour calling for Merlin. He'd heard from a passing servant that the little prince had headed for the storerooms but when he arrived there, the place was empty.

"He's gone."

The king turned and met the red rimmed eyes of Angus who was posed against the wall, hair wet from the rain.

"Angus, what the _hell_ are you-?"

"He's gone." The servant repeated, "Do not waste your time any further by looking for him because he's not here."

Colour flooded into Uther's face, "Angus…what have you-?"

"You are a lying, cheating, poor excuse for a human Uther." This was the first time he'd addressed the king by his first name, and he felt a rush as he took a few steps forward to be closer to the king, "You should have told that boy who he was from the moment he could understand words."

"What was I supposed to do?" Uther hissed, "Tell him his very birthright was false? I do not need to stand here and be criticised by a mere servant. Now tell me where my son is or-"

"I told you, he's gone. He's probably nearly out of Camelot by now. And I am happy for him to be as far away from a man like yourself." The servant leant in closer, "_You've_ done this to him Uther. I have spent years blaming myself but now I realise it's always been you."

Uther went pale. He turned and left the servant in the corridor, hurrying to the back door which could have been the only possible exit for the prince to leave without being seen. Merlin's cloak was gone, as were his shoes.

Forgetting his dignity, Uther opened the door and charged out into the storm; with the last of his breath he screamed out: "MERLIN!"

Halfway across the field, Merlin was sensible to the voices behind him, but the sound of the king only drove him further on. He was scared of the wind and the rain drowned his skin with no mercy. But he continued on, using his magic to warm himself and keep his body from going numb. Uther's voice was joined by that of Thisbe and some of the other servants and he knew they were probably searching the field for him, to which he sped up his pace. He only paused when he heard Morgana calling, her voice filled with bitter sadness. It was a tone he'd never heard coming from her lips before.

And then Arthur, calling his name until his voice was raw.

He wondered why he was doing this. The voice inside him willed him to return home, to apologise to the king and greet Arthur with a hug that could kill them both. But there was someone he needed to see. He knew they would have all the answers.

He forwarded on into the rain and soon the shouting fell into silence behind him.

**~ END OF PART FOUR ~**


	34. Part 5 - A stranger returns

**~PART FIVE~**

On the morning of a warm summer's day, a young man of fifteen approached the gates of the kingdom Camelot, then decided against it and changed his route. He headed for the palace gardens for he knew them well. Little had changed in three years; the orchard was still full and blossoming with ripe apples, and the grass was specked with dew. He stooped down and picked a lavender from the soil.

One of the dogs was asleep near the pond and upon hearing his footsteps, awoke with a start. When it recognised the scent, it restricted the growl from reaching its throat as it saw this person was not a stranger and instead, galloped excitedly over to him, tail wagging to the point of snapping off. It shuffled up to the familiar face on its front and plopped its heavy head onto the crook of his knee. The wretched thing was ageing well; its fur had remained black and white but now its muzzle was specked grey and movement was limited. It had also gained an excessive amount of weight, so its belly was swollen and pink looking. He rubbed its ear thoughtfully.

"Hello Juno."

He left the dog to chew on its own ankles and continued up the orchard, between the trees where he could hear someone singing – most probably to themselves. The singing was not tuneful but nor was it unpleasant. It was a Welsh folk song that he was familiar with. He pulled past the bushes with the roses and thorns and watched the servant for a moment, as he carefully chose the least damaged fruits with intense concentration and collected them in his basket. Though his back was turned and it had been several years since he'd set eyes on him, he was recognisable by his dark brown hair and the belt with brass embroidery around the middle that he had previously enjoyed chewing as a child.

"George?"

The servant turned with a jump and they stared at each other a while through screens of hair. Both had changed in the past four years, though George had changed more dramatically. His hair was longer and almost fell to his eyes and he looked skinnier than he was supposed to be. It seemed Uther was not taking care of his servants as well as he used to. His eyes were the same though. They never changed. He looked more like Angus now. For a moment he frowned at the stranger and carefully set the basket of fruit down as he traced the other boy from head to foot. Then he recognised those sky blue eyes.

"_Merlin?_"

In a matter of seconds the basket was forgotten and Merlin found George had flung his arms around his neck. He was a lot stronger than he looked and Merlin found the hug stole all the breath from his airway.

"Ye Gods, I thought we'd never see you again!" He said with excitement, "You ran away! Where have you been all these-?"

"Where is the king?" Merlin cut in shortly.

George pulled back, arms still around Merlin's neck, "He is in his chambers…he's hardly left there since your departure. I think Prince Arthur and Lady Morgana are in the kitchen-"

"Please, tell them I'm here."

"Won't you come and tell them yourself?"

"I need an hour or so. After all, they may not want to see me."

"That's doubtful," The servant stated, "But I will tell them. I have missed you so Merlin." He pulled the boy in for another hug.

"As I missed you. And your jokes."

"Please, _please_ don't ever leave again."

Merlin carefully inhaled the musky smell of the castle hallways from George's shoulder, "I'll try hard not to."

The servant then pulled away, whistled for Juno and quickly headed back to the castle with the fat dog lumbering after him. Merlin shrank back and sat in the grass, fist tightening over the lavender as he fought to tame his racing heart.


	35. Sibling rivalry

"_Elizabeth!_ We've got more rats! Send the wretched cat down!"

"Can't Angus do it, Thisbe?"

"You know very well he can't! Now get a move on!"

The wailing of an infant came as a distraction and Thisbe went to scoop the child from his blankets in the corner where he usually slept. The babe didn't have a mother. He'd been found abandoned in the forest with only a cloth to keep him warm. He was a druid, made apparent by the symbol on his forearm and had been nameless the whole six months he'd lived in the castle. The king was not informed of his presence, as they feared he'd be thrown into burning coals if his magic was discovered. Thisbe now raised him as her own and at this moment lifted the shrieking child and went to her rocking chair near the oven, cradling him on her lap.

"Hold your peace, you whining brat!" She called down to the bairn who was currently sobbing blue murder, "Otherwise I'll have no choice but to give the dogs something to snack on!"

The toddler went mute instantly and began sucking at the brooch on her chest with fascination. From the corner, the seventeen year old Arthur Pendragon smirked effortlessly.

"That'll shut him up." He said abruptly to Thisbe, "See? There you go. He's smiling. He hasn't smiled in days. That's definitely a grin."

"I can't understand what's wrong with him." Thisbe stated, gently stroking the infant's cheeks with her index finger, "He's had a fiery temper lately." She heard a door close from outside in the hallway, "That'll be Angus. He'll need help getting up the stairs."

Arthur pulled himself onto a bench by the wall and swung his legs over it, "It's like he's been witched." He stated rudely, "He's been witched so his back don't work."

Thisbe frowned at him, "You better not let your father hear you talk like that. And you know very well why Angus can't walk right. The king made sure every bone in his back suffered after what happened. He's fortunate to still be wearing his skin."

Arthur smile faded, "I remember. I'm sorry." He eyed the babe who was drifting off, "Have you named him yet?"

"Not yet. I was hoping one of you would oblige."

She referred to Morgana, who was sitting in a chair near the hearth, well away from Arthur. She was fourteen now and had developed rapidly; her chest was larger, her hair longer and her temper for fierce than ever. Her body had grown slender, and it was obvious she was scarcely past girlhood: an admirable form, yet also masking a dark misery. She'd grown more and more bitter within the past few years; mostly due to Arthur's constant teasing and determination to make her life as close to hell as possible. The king never spoke to her anymore and without Merlin to console her, she was more alone than ever.

"Perhaps _you_ should name him Morgana?" Arthur said with a jest in his voice, "I know you witches have exotic taste."

She never opened her mouth. She stared - he stared also, lips still twitching upwards. He fed off her irritation. It took away the pain. At any rate, she kept her eyes on him in a cool, regardless manner, as she always did. Agnes came wandering in and lazily rubbed her head against Thisbe's ankle, growling softly. She left again for a while and came back carrying the smallest of her litter; she laid it amongst the blankets in the corner and then went back and forth to retrieve the rest.

"Beautiful animals..." Arthur commenced, gaze falling upon the kittens, "Do you intend on parting with the little ones, Thisbe?"

"They are not mine, therefore I shall not decide," she replied, as the cat made herself comfortable and the babies started to feed, "We can always ask one of the stable boys if they care to take one on. Now wouldst one of you take the bairn whilst I tend to Angus?"

"Morgana can have him." Arthur said, "Though she ought not to stare at him too long. She'd frighten the lad."

"His heart would flip right over if he were to look into _your_ eyes." Morgana shot back, more repellently than Uther himself could have replied.

Arthur was not one to be made a fool of and merely sniffed at her spitefully. Thisbe said nothing in the girl's defence, nor did she say anything to spur on Arthur's comment. To her, they were just naïve, insolent children having a quarrel. It had been like that for the past four years.

"I want some wine." Morgana said suddenly, and she arose from her chair for the first time that morning to go and reach for one of the chalices on the shelf near her. She was too short it would seem and Arthur took great pleasure in telling her so.

"It seems you haven't grown tall enough to have a drink." He said with a nasty sneer, "Would you like me to collect it for you?"

"I don't want your help," she snapped; "I can get it myself."

"Excuse me for offering!" He hastened to reply, as she finally reached the chalice by placing her knee on the counter below, "While you're up there, you might as well pour me some."

"Did I offer you wine?" she demanded, collecting a chalice for herself and pulling the jug of red liquid down to her lap.

"I shall be glad to have a cup," he answered, propping his elbow onto the counter and shoving his chin on his hand.

"Did I offer?" she repeated, "Answer the question, unless you're too foolish to."

This made the prince twitch with irritation, "No," he said, smiling through gritted teeth, "I didn't think I required _permission_ for a mere drink in my own household. Especially from a witch."

She slammed the jar down on the counter: the chalice fell and chipped evenly against the stone floor, making the child on Thisbe's lap awake with a start, and she returned to her chair in a silent rage; her lip pushed out like a child who was ready to cry. Arthur, satisfied at his victory in infuriating his half sister, lifted the cracked chalice from the floor and put it back with the others before pouring a cup for himself.

"By the Gods, you two need to work out your differences." Thisbe muttered, "Now will one of you _please_ take the bairn? He's starting to kick."

Arthur tipped back his head and swallowed the drink in two gulps.

"I'm going to find Gaius in a minute," Morgana commented, looking up towards the light, trying to hold back tears, "I need a remedy to help me sleep. I can't take the child with me."

"Do whatever you want Morgana." Arthur said curtly, and then he said to Thisbe, "_I'll_ watch him."

Thisbe rose and handed the child to Arthur who took her place in the rocking chair whilst she went to assist Angus on the stairs. He said nothing to Morgana; he just continued rocking the bairn until it stopped kicking and stared up at him curiously. The boy was no older than three years of age but Elizabeth thought him to be younger. His eyes were pale blue and he had a head of dark locks. He didn't speak but hollered louder than the dogs did most times. Another matter that needed discussion was what to name the poor thing, though it seemed everyone was too preoccupied with keeping the kingdom together to bother with giving the child a name.

George came bursting in without warning and Juno came after him, startling the cats. The servant entered at such a speed he almost trod on one of the kittens but he managed to grind to a halt and took the time to carefully move the blind creature back to the warmth of its mother's fur.

"George!" Arthur snapped, "There is such thing as knocking!"

"Merlin is outside!"

Arthur's breath hitched and at the servant's words, Morgana's head flew up to face him. The infant suddenly settled and gazed over at the serving-boy curiously, hand stuck in his mouth. The prince was the first to respond.

"You'd better stick to your brass jokes George."

"It's not a joke!" George replied determinedly, "It's true! Merlin Emrys has returned to Camelot!"

Arthur studied his face, and after seeing no lie in the boy's eyes, rose from the chair and shoved the child into Morgana's hold.

"Take him. I have to see for myself if this mad jest is true. And if you are lying to me," he directed this threat at George, "Expect to go to bed tonight with a bad back."

"I won't sit here while you go to greet our brother alone!" Morgana snapped, rising also, "I'm coming with you!"

"Then give the child to Elizabeth. That or bring him with us. Your choice."

George turned back and hastened out of the door again and after Morgana had passed through with the baby to find Elizabeth, the prince quickly went to the corner to make sure Agnes' kittens were warm before following them both.


	36. Reunion

Merlin had been waiting for almost half an hour before he caught sight of George hurrying back through the trees. At first he thought he was alone, and arose to ask whether the prince and lady wished to see him again; then he caught sight of Morgana sprinting after the servant and he flinched. He needn't have been so timid; Morgana ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, bringing with her the dainty smell of summer roses, an old but familiar scent. She pressed her face into the nape of his neck and inhaled the scent of the woodland. It was a comfort to her senses, but also told a story of heartache and great regret, something which Merlin would bring up later.

When she'd found it within her to let go, she cupped his face and studied all the features that had changed over the years; his eyes seemed brighter and he was thinner than he had been previously, made obvious by the sharp cheekbones that now stuck out beneath the flesh. His hair had grown so it curled under the ear. But he was still Merlin. Still Merlin Emrys.

"I knew you'd come back." She whispered, pressing their foreheads together, "I dreamed of it. I knew…" she trailed off and water slipped from underneath her lids.

Merlin leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead, "I could never stay away. Not forever." He ran his fingers through her hair, down to the tips, and they slid through as if he were touching silk, "I have felt lost without you, my dear sister. And I'm sorry it has taken me so long to call you by that title."

"Merlin…"

He looked over her head and saw Arthur standing several feet away behind George. He came forward and they stared at each other for a while, as Morgana stepped away and allowed them to get their breath back. Merlin was wary of the deep anger lurking in Arthur's expression and could have predicted what happened next; the prince seized his collar and he was slammed against one of the trees, back digging into the wood.

"Why did you leave?" Arthur hissed at his face, "Why would you even _think _of leaving me? After all we've been through-" He cut off, inhaled sharply through his nose and spent the next few minutes just looking into Merlin's eyes, "Why did you take so _long_, Merlin?"

Before the warlock could even open his mouth in response, he was pulled into an embrace that very nearly killed him. His arms immediately moved upwards to clasp Arthur closer and they both wept for a while, as Morgana and George stood in the background, watching the grass respectively. When they were finished, they pulled away from each other and the prince moved a hand up to touch Merlin's face a few more times to check if he was definitely real. When he was certain he wasn't hallucinating in some way, he carefully took his brother's hand.

"We have to inform the king that you've returned. He's been near starving himself in his chambers for the past four years. You running away almost killed him."

At this, Merlin seemed to pull back, "I don't want to see him…he'll surely be furious at me."

"Not as furious as he was with my father." George muttered, grabbing the back of Juno's neck to calm his excitement.

Angus flashed in Merlin's head, "What about your father? How is he?"

"He can barely walk after the flogging he received for allowing you to run off." Arthur said grimly.

"Heavens…" Merlin almost started weeping again at the image, "I never meant for him to be punished in such a way."

"I know you didn't." George replied, "And he was willing to take it for you. But it's important you visit the king. There is a hole in his heart and only you can fill it."

Merlin sighed and stared down at the grass. Seconds later, a daffodil that had roasted to death in the sun resurrected itself back into blossom and stood tall again. The boy's eyes flashed back to normal and he looked up at the others.

"Alright. I will go to him. But only if you accompany me there."


	37. Darkness lifted

Uther seemed to have aged a thousand years since Merlin disappeared. He ate rarely and now his clothes hung off him like a loose collar on a dog. He never opened the curtains to his room and constantly plunged himself in darkness, creating an artificial night in his chambers. He was rarely heard of from the servants and only Gaius was permitted to enter and speak with him if he ever requested his presence. He spent most of his time sitting in his armchair and staring out into the courtyard beyond his window, waiting for his surrogate son to return.

He never did.

He blamed himself for everything that had happened. The once proud king was now nothing but a withering figure; a shadow of the man he used to be.

**~oOo~**

"Are you sure about this, Arthur?" Merlin asked nervously, hand gripping his brother's wrist and squeezing until the bone almost snapped, "I don't think I can bear to look him in the eyes…I can't-"

"Hush…" Arthur reached over and carefully wiped away the tears before they fell, gently maneuvering Merlin's hold from his wrist before he caused bruising, "…you will have to face him eventually. Do you want me to come in with you?"

Merlin glanced at Morgana.

"You two go ahead." She said uncertainly, whilst George put a hand over Juno's snout to stop him from barking, "We'll wait."

Plagued with nerves, Merlin rested his forehead against the wood of the door, steadied this breathing and then followed Arthur into the king's chambers. The room was dark – the only light to be seen was that of the sun's rays trying to peek through the curtains that had been drawn shut. The room was dusty because no one tended to it anymore. The lack of sunlight made the warlock all the more nervous. He waited on a bench beside the wall whilst Arthur daringly went over to the curtains and pulled them apart to allow the harsh light to wander in. From the corner, something stirred.

"Who is it?"

The voice was low and resembled the sort of noise a wolf would make, only more threatening. Merlin trembled in fear and backed up against the wall, hands gripping the wooden edges of the bench until his knuckles were white. The voice came again, cold and dry;

"Is that you Gaius?"

"It's me, sire." Merlin heard Arthur reply, his tone hardly sympathetic.

Uther growled, "What do you want?"

Merlin flinched at the king's flippant tone but Arthur went on undeterred, "There's someone who wants to see you."

"I don't want to see anyone." Was the response.

Merlin felt his gut twist but Arthur pressed on.

"Very well…" he said, putting his arms behind his back, "…but I must warn you; this visitor has come a long way to seek your presence. I strongly suggest you have an audience with him."

Uther shifted in his seat, as if thinking. Merlin realised he'd stopped breathing and quickly inhaled the air he so desperately needed. He felt his knees buckle and for a moment he feared he'd faint there and then.

And then the voice called, "Bring him forward."

Merlin tensed, but the calming voice inside his head consoled his frightened spirit. He straightened his posture in an attempt to behave like the man he had become and slowly he rose from the bench and turned the corner to where the king sat.

The king was in his armchair and had been gazing out the window the way he usually did. When Arthur had entered, he hadn't bothered turning around but now that he'd been informed that they had a guest, he used all the strength left in his body to shift his chair around to face the stranger. He half expected it to be the doctor – that or a whiny peasant come to complain about the lack of food within the villages. He kept his eyes to the floor as the figure appeared from behind the wall and stood with great uncertainty before him. Lazily, he began studying them from their boots and upwards; they were dressed rather finely but it certainly was not the way most Camelot folk dressed. His boots were almost up to his knees, his breeches were jade black and he was wearing a cerulean blue tunic, the same colour as Arthur's eyes. He was dressed similar to that of a Lord. That…or a druid.

His teeth clenched at the thought of a person of magic daring to show their face in his presence. He lifted his head swiftly and as soon as he caught those sky blue eyes, he realised he'd seen them before. The raven hair, the pale skin, the pendant that hung from his neck…

He hardly needed the tell-tale signs to recognise his own child.

For a moment, he thought he'd maybe wandered into another hallucination. After all, he'd been having quite a few lately. He stared at the boy a while longer, trying to wake himself up. When he came to the conclusion that this was not a dream, his lips quivered and he dared himself to utter the name that had not been mentioned within the household for over four years;

"Merlin…"

He stood, though it was difficult to, and held out a hand to touch the boy. Merlin repelled at first; he could not stand being struck at this moment in time and he wished not to receive it from the firm hand of the king. But the hand met his cheek and gently stroked for a while and soon he found the courage buried in the depths of his soul to open his eyes and meet his surrogate father's gaze. Uther didn't seem angry nor sad; he didn't speak, only stared as if a spirit of the dead had passed through him. Not knowing what else to do, Merlin swallowed his doubt and carefully knelt before the king, head bowed respectively, eyes penetrating the floor.

"Sire…" His voice was almost inaudible, "...I have returned."

Arthur coughed to disguise the sob that was growing in his throat and watched as his father reached down to guide the raven-head back to his feet.

"You bow to no one…" he said, lifting Merlin's chin so their eyes met once again, "…not even me."

Merlin's breath hitched, "Sire-"

"I have dreamt of this day…" Uther sounded weak, close to death even, "…four years…"

Merlin sank his teeth into his lip, "Sire, you should sit…you're not well-"

"Merlin, I'm sorry."

Those words caught Arthur's attention, as Uther Pendragon had never apologised so genuinely in his life.

"Everything has been my doing. For years I have blamed others…and even punished those who tried to challenge me."

Merlin pictured Angus and winced.

Uther seated himself back down and Merlin knelt beside him, chest tightening as he felt the king weaken in his hold.

"You still hate me…" the king said, fingers curling in the boy's dark locks.

"No." Merlin said abruptly, "I never did. My time away has taught me about forgiveness. And forgiving those I love."

Uther seemed to relax with relief, "That is good to hear. I feared I had lost you."

"Where did you go?" Arthur asked softly, approaching the two of them and reaching a hand down to brush the child's hair.

"It's a long story."

"Now Merlin, you know how we enjoy stories." Uther said with a calm smile, "Start from the beginning."

Merlin wet his lips, "Morgana and George are outside."

"Let them in then." The king said to Arthur, "Surely this is a story worthy for everyone to hear."


	38. Stories of druids and witches

"Upon leaving Camelot, I began a journey which was both nerve wracking and inspiring put together. I started off on the road and would steal rides on the backs of wagons at every given chance; until I was caught and forced to run twenty miles to avoid my neck being snapped. After a week away from home I found myself stranded in the woods for several days, with only the little food and water Angus had provided me with. When that ran out, I was forced to survive on a diet of wild berries and water from the stream - as you can see, it had a long term effect on my figure. The lack of food made me weak and one day I collapsed in a clearing in the forest from the biting hunger. Had no help come, I probably would have been left for the wolves to gouge on. The next thing I knew, I had been discovered by a clan of druids and they'd taken me to their shrine for healing. I know what you have told me about druids, sire, but I must inform you that you are mistaken in your judgement; they are decent and trustworthy beings whose only goal at that moment in time was to make sure I recovered and got some meat in me. I befriended several of the children there; there was a girl named Freya-"

At this, Arthur interrupted, "A _girl?_" He batted his eyelashes foolishly, "Was she your little desert flower, Merlin?"

"You're a simpleton Arthur, she was never anything like that. Though I admit she _was_ beautiful; she was fair and had the sweetest, darkest eyes in the world...her hair was ragged but I liked it that way, it fell neatly over her shoulders the way Morgana's does. And her singing was lovely; she'd always sing at night while we were resting in the caves and the fireflies were out. Sometimes I and her would go to the lake together and we'd look upon Camelot's walls while I ranted about old times of riding horseback in the courtyard or watching the jousting from the stands. She envied my previous lifestyle, I'll tell you. She said she couldn't imagine what possessed me to abandon such a pampered life. And then she'd laugh and we'd play fight for a while before returning to the others. She was my best friend, I can say that easily...but I suppose I must forget her now. Continuing with what I was saying, I remained with the druids until I was well enough to walk. They gave me fresh clothes, food and even love when I needed it. After a year or so when I was strong enough, I asked them the whereabouts of…please do not be angered by her name sire, but…I asked them for the whereabouts of Nimueh."

At this, Uther looked displeased but was too tired to voice his opinions.

"I will not tell you where I found her, I promised I wouldn't. But it is a place I would wish no one to live; a cold, dark, awful place. Anyway, I feared she may be fearsome at the sight of me and kill me on the spot. But she smiled and kissed me and told me she knew what I was there for.

'You've come for answers.' She told me, and she gave me a knowing smile.

I nodded in response, though I felt wrong throwing up all this information. The whole situation was delicate and I wondered if it was wise to tell her.

'I told you once when you were an infant Merlin Emrys," her two fingers reached out and caught my chin and she leaned forward to the point I feared that she'd kiss me, "You and I will get along fine...and I was right.'

I'll admit, I was nervous of her. But at the time she was all I had. I needed her assistance. I showed her my pendant and she examined it for a few hours before confirming who it had been made by. She had given me what I wanted. I was there for answers and she gave them to me. So I left."

"I don't understand…" Morgana looked baffled, "So…where have you been all this time? Just wandering around alone?"

Merlin shook his head, and he swallowed the growing lump that was creeping up his throat, trying to strangle him.

"I was looking for my father…"

He could feel all the eyes falling upon him but he ignored them, "Nimueh told me there was a Dragonlord living as a hermit in a cave in the depth of the forest somewhere. He never speaks to anyone, never sees daylight."

Uther looked dismayed, "So that's what became of my old friend?"

Merlin nodded, "I spent almost two years searching for him. Some of my druid friends accompanied me on the journey but when I came across the cave eventually (by this time I had well reached adolescence,) I wanted to go alone. Freya insisted on going some of the way with me;

"I don't want anything happening to you," she said - she had the sort of voice that soothed you - "I'm walking with you whether you like it or not."

"What if a wolf comes?" I replied with a jest, "We'd _both_ get eaten."

"Yes, but at least neither of us would die alone!"

I smiled and grabbed her hand and we ran the rest of the way. I loved running along the banks; it was a part of the forest I had never ventured as a child. I should take you there sometime Arthur, you'd enjoy it. So, we found the cave Nimueh spoke of and I insisted to Freya I go the rest of the way alone and..." He trailed off and sighed, "I got so close…and…and…I could feel him." He gritted his teeth and allowed a drop of water to escape his eye, "I knew he was there."

"What did you do then?" George asked.

"I couldn't go on. I went back to Freya and we returned to the camp. I would have stayed there permanently…but Freya told me my rightful place was here. And she was right." He turned and glanced up at his father, "Forgive me sire, for causing you such pain these years. I was wrong to ever doubt you."

At this, Arthur looked irritated.

Uther reached down and rubbed the back of Merlin's hair, "There's nothing to forgive, my heart. And you're never to call me sire again, do you understand?"

The colour seemed to have returned to his cheeks and lips, which Merlin was grateful for as the king had been white as paper previously. George announced that he was needed in the kitchen and left with Juno and as soon as he was standing, Morgana took Merlin by the arm.

"Come, let's go down and see Thisbe. Just wait until you see the little treasure she found while you were gone!"


	39. Mordred

Angus' arms had never felt warmer. That was probably the only thing that hadn't changed at all since Merlin had left.

As soon as he saw the servant sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the kitchen, he'd broken down and spent the next hour uttering apology after apology whilst his second father figure merely clung to him and inhaled the sweet fragrance from his raven hair. When the boy was calm enough, he questioned the man on how vicious the punishment had been, answered when Angus pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the many scars that marked his collarbone, making the child weep harder. His crying was only silenced when it was accompanied by another and he was attracted to the small figure that lay shrieking in Elizabeth's arms. When the toddler set his eyes upon him, he went quiet and studied the tall figure that reached over and carefully took him from Elizabeth to get a better view. It was as if…well, as if they knew each other. That feeling often emerged between folks with magic.

"Where did you find him?" Merlin asked, sitting down on the stone floor while the infant reached up to poke his nose.

"The knights found him in the woods on a patrol." Arthur said, "So they brought him home to keep as a pet."

"Arthur!" Thisbe exclaimed.

"What's his name?" The raven-head asked.

"He hasn't got one." Morgana replied, sitting herself by the hearth.

"Does the king know of him?"

"By some miracle he doesn't! That child's always hollering!" George remarked.

Agnes stirred from the corner and seven tiny heads stirred also.

"Agnes old girl!" Merlin exclaimed, as the cat approached cautiously at first, then recognised him and started purring, "And now there are seven more of you?"

"They only came last Tuesday." Elizabeth said, "We think the Cook's tomcat is responsible."

The infant made a face and pointed at the cat as if to speak. His mouth opened but no words came out. He shut it again.

"It feels I have missed out on a lot." The young warlock stated with a sigh in his voice.

"You have." Angus commented, "But you've returned and that's all that matters now."

"And you must be exhausted after travelling so far." Morgana stood and removed his cloak from his shoulders, "Get some rest. Your bed is still where it used to be."

Merlin chuckled at that, "I'm glad to hear of it."

Before handing the toddler back to Elizabeth, Merlin stared into the sky blue eyes a minute longer and realised that the child stared also, with great curiosity. Slowly, the smallest hint of a smile spread across the mute infant's lips.

"I know what to call him."

All the eyes in the room looked towards him questioningly.

"His name shall be Mordred."


	40. An issue with women

"Things have changed, haven't they?" Merlin said softly to Arthur, as they curled up in the living area with Juno and some of the kittens sleeping by the hearth.

"Yes," Arthur replied, "Many things have."

"You and the king-?"

"-have grown apart." Arthur cut in, "He just…switched off after you left. I don't call him Father anymore. Everything just went still when he locked himself in his chambers day and night. The servants wouldn't talk to each other, George would keep asking for you-"

"You gained an attitude."

At this, the prince laughed, "I apologise for that. Uther's silence angered me."

"I just wish you would refrain from taking it out on Morgana."

"She's trouble Merlin. Do you know what she did after you left? She went and threw herself in the pond again, that's what she did! She's mental."

"She was upset."

"If she was upset, she could have gone to her chambers and wept as I did." At this, his voice faltered and Merlin detected the slightest hint of tears as his eyes flickered against the heat of the flames. Merlin shifted in the blanket they were sharing and carefully eased an arm over the other's shoulder.

Arthur spoke again, "Do you regret not seeing your Father?"

"In some ways." Merlin replied honestly, "I kick myself for backing out and being a coward. But I just couldn't face him. All those years away were for nothing in the end."

"That's not entirely true. You became a man in your absence."

"I suppose. But there's still an empty feeling."

"That may be hunger."

Merlin snickered, "Yes, maybe…"

Gwen came in with Mordred and carefully laid the toddler on the floor, where he sat up with curiosity and managed to find his feet and stagger towards the warlock on the rug. Merlin caught him before he fell.

"He's never walked before." Arthur said, rather baffled.

"It would seem your presence has inspired him Merlin." Gwen stated with a smile.

Merlin returned it and noticed in the corner of his eyes a hint of annoyance flash across Arthur's expression.

"Guinevere, I think Morgana will be needing your service right about now." The blonde said without looking at her.

"But it's not bedtime yet." Merlin responded, puzzled.

"You best not keep her waiting."

The maid, who had never had a fondness for Prince Arthur, masked her irritation with another smile, "Of course. I bid you goodnight, my Lords."

Merlin replied, "Goodnight Gwen."

Arthur watched her go and didn't send her any greeting. Instead he stuck his tongue between his teeth and grunted.

"What's the matter?" Merlin questioned him, "Are you vexed with me for talking to her?"

"Slightly." Arthur replied.

The raven-head tugged at the bandana around his neck, "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you had taken a liking to her."

"What? No, no, it's not like that! I mean, I fear she may have a liking for _you_."

Merlin looked at him with innocence, "_Me?_ Who would ever take a liking to me?"

"There are many fair maidens who would." Arthur smirked, "And besides, you may meet up with your Freya again – you may even be wed to her someday."

"She's not _my_ Freya!" Merlin exclaimed, cheeks burning hotter than the fire, "And besides, she cares for someone else."

"And who is that?"

"One of the druids at the camp. His name was Cassius."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"It is. She told me so. And I wouldn't marry her even if I did love her."

"Why not?"

"Because…" he trailed off, as Mordred reached up and unhelpfully poked him in the eye, "…because I've never wanted a woman to come between us."

"As if _that_ would ever happen." Arthur reached over and rubbed the back of the warlock's head, "Nothing as silly as a woman would ever stop us being brothers." He leaned over and pressed a firm kiss against Merlin's temple.

"Alright." The younger boy replied, "But you oughtn't to call women 'silly' Arthur. They deserve more respect than that."

"You care too much, Merlin."

Young Mordred reached for the warlock's pendant and immediately began sucking on it; when Merlin went to remove it from his mouth he voiced his displeasure and immediately grabbed it back again, sticking it in his mouth once more. Arthur's eyebrows slid upwards as the pendant was soon coated in a fresh layer of slaver. It made Merlin smile.

"He's a little miracle, isn't he? What do you think he'll be like when he's our age?"

Mordred's eyes suddenly flashed a shade of gold and the pendant around Merlin's neck slowly began to levitate. Arthur grinned.

"I think he'll be a lot like you."


	41. Cherry tree

"What do you want ter do?" Percival asked.

"I dunno." Replied Lancelot, "What do _you_ want ter do?"

"I dunno." Sighed Leon, "What do _you_ want ter do?"

The five of them were lazing about in the fields, counting clouds in the sky; Percival, Leon, Elyan, Lancelot and Gwaine. The only problem being that counting clouds was limited entertainment. After a while, Gwaine groaned.

"This is dull to the high heavens!" The sixteen-year-old who'd been down the tavern more than many his age pulled himself to his feet, "Let's play knights!"

Elyan, the blacksmith's son and brother of Guinevere, blinked, "_Play_ knights?"

"Yes." Gwaine replied with a roll of his eyes, "_Play_ knights. Haven't you ever played knights before?"

"No…"

"How'd you play knights?" asked Leon, whose father was the captain of the guard.

"Simple. I'm Sir Gwaine, you're Sir Leon, you're Sir Lancelot and you're Sir Percival. We go around fighting villains and restoring peace to Camelot."

"What about me?" asked Elyan.

"You can be our jester."

"That ent fair!"

"You're too young to be a knight."

"Am not!"

"How old are you?"

"…Fourteen."

Gwaine raised his eyebrows.

"_Fine_, I'm fourteen this winter, but I don't want ter be a jester! I want ter be a knight!"

"Don't mock him Gwaine," said Percival, the tall lad who could easily have been mistaken for a bear in the dark, "He can be a knight if he wants ter."

"Ye Gods, fine, he can be a knight. But if he gets himself killed, it'll be _your_ responsibility."

Elyan scowled and then muttered under his breath, "Clott…"

Gwaine turned around, eyes narrowed, "_What_ did you say?"

Arthur and Morgana were crossing the fields several paces away from each other when they heard the sound of shouting coming from ahead of them.

"Let him _go_ Gwaine!"

"Get off me Percival!"

"Leon, get your knee away from there!"

"I can't help it Lance, Percival's _squashing_ me!"

Use to this sort of reckless behaviour from his companions, Arthur took a step forward and cleared his throat. The five boys stopped fighting and looked up at him sheepishly. They were all piled on top of each other; Elyan at the bottom trying to escape from Gwaine who was currently being crushed by Percival along with Lancelot and Leon who'd been caught up in the situation trying to rescue Elyan. Arthur eyed the dog-pile wearily.

"Good morning sire." Percival laughed uneasily.

"Good morning sire." The others said in strained voices.

"Have any of you seen the king?"

"I saw him in the orchard with Merlin." Lancelot grunted, trying to shift into a more comfortable position but finding it impossible, "He looked slightly pale if you don't mind me saying."

"No, I don't mind." Arthur sighed and turned to Morgana, "I don't need you tagging along after me, you can go back to the castle."

"I'll do whatever I please." Morgana huffed, "And I'd never tag after _you_, Arthur Pendragon."

She strutted on ahead and when she did so, the pile collapsed and each of the boys found they could breathe again.

"What bit _her?_" Leon stated, wiping the dirt off his knees.

Arthur shrugged, "I wish I knew. You lot have fun murdering each other."

He ran to catch up with Morgana, as Gwaine turned and asked Elyan to kindly repeat what he'd stated earlier.

**~oOo~**

"Do you remember when we used to walk through here when you were a child?"

Uther was frailer than he'd been four years ago and now needed his son's arm to support him.

"Vaguely." Merlin replied, "I know that Thisbe would take the apples from here and make cider with them."

"You used to love that cider." Uther smiled at the memory, "You'd drink an entire goblet while my back was turned and then keep yourself up all night hiccuping."

Merlin could hardly keep back his grin, "I remember that."

"And then Arthur would tell you to stand on your head to get them to stop and you'd do it."

"I did everything Arthur told me to."

"That's a fact."

They reached one of the eldest trees in the orchard; a cherry tree that had been blossoming since the birth of Arthur. Merlin had strong memories of climbing up there with his brother and George when they were youngsters and shaking the branches so the blossoms flew with the breeze and settled into the grass below. The cherries which grew on the tree never lost their taste, even now.

"I feel safe here." Merlin said without thinking, reaching out to touch the thick bark of the tree that felt so familiar.

"Your mother used to bring you out here when you were a baby." He noticed Merlin's eyes falling upon him, "Not the queen...your real mother, Hunith."

Merlin carefully lifted his head and inhaled the humid air that hung around them, "I can feel her..."

"Merlin!"

The raven-head turned and saw Morgana approaching from the fields, Arthur trudging after her.

"_There_ you are!" She stopped to catch her breath and allowed Arthur to overtake her, "We've been looking for you!"

"I needed some air." Uther stated without looking at her, "The king is entitled to leave his chambers once and a while."

"You're ill, sire." Arthur said softly, "You shouldn't be out."

Uther didn't reply to this. He allowed Morgana to take his arm and slowly lead him back across the fields. Merlin hung back, looking up at the cherry blossoms as they moved steadily in the slight breeze that flowed through Camelot that day. He was aware of Arthur standing behind him and stooping down to the grass to pick something. It was unusual for Arthur to pick flowers; the only time he had done that before was when they were young and it was the queen's birthday. He could feel fingers threading into his hair and then plaiting carefully and when his hands reached up to touch his head he traced the outline of a lavender, plaited quite neatly into his dark locks. He brought his hand back and smelt the strong essence of the flower imprinted on his fingertips.

"Your mother would give me those..." Arthur said quietly, "When I was crying or upset about something she would always pick a lavender for me. She said it would help me find inner serenity." He felt his voice crack and quickly masked it with a smile, "She was right."

Merlin allowed his eyes to shut, turned and went to press his face deep into Arthur's neck, rubbing his face against the warm skin of his older brother's throat.

"I miss her..."

Chin resting on the youngster's head, Arthur looked up at the tree standing in crowning glory above them, memories of climbing its branches dancing before his eyes like torches, and slowly muttered, "So do I."

They stood there in silence for sometime before Merlin pulled away to stare into the blue eyes opposite him.

"Do you think any less of me?"

It took a while for the words to sink into Arthur's head, "_Less_ of you?"

"You've always known we're not related...not cousins or brothers...have you ever thought anything less of me because of it."

His head ducked to avoid the prince's eyes but a finger was caught under his chin and soon the cerulean pupils met his once more.

"I could never think anything less of you, Merlin Emrys. You were always a brother to me. I never saw you as anything else. You're still my brother Merlin, still my cousin. And you always will be no matter what."

Merlin felt his throat go dry, "Do you promise me?"

"Have I ever lied before?"

"No."

"Then you can trust me."

Merlin felt his nerves settle, as the warmth of a kiss met his forehead, lasted a few seconds and then slowly withdrew.


	42. A world that's different

Merlin and Mordred grew increasingly close during the months since the warlock's return. Mordred began putting some effort into learning how to walk and before anyone knew it he was scampering around with the dogs. His speech was improving as well, due to the many sessions in which Merlin sat in front of him near the fire and carefully recited words from books. At first the boy would grumble and try to slither away but Merlin refused to give up on him and carefully the wild toddler stopped shying from education and matured enough to pay attention. Mordred's first word could not be found in any book though. His first word was 'Emrys,' and he deemed it his duty to repeat the name over and over again whilst following Merlin around the castle.

He had a similar relationship with Morgana; she would put him to bed most nights and sing him to sleep. Her lullabies were soft and sometimes melancholy but swept him into his dreams nonetheless. She would hurry to him whenever he cried and if he were ever in a temper or pulling a tantrum, she'd never chastise him. She would hold him and permit him to calm down before handing him to Merlin who would often end the shrieking fit with a few kisses.

The child even brought the sentimentality out of Arthur, who had become a hostile character over the years. The babe's colourful laugh and rosy cheeks were enough to get him smiling even on the greyest of days.

It was Arthur who broke the news to Uther that there was a druid living amongst them, but surprisingly, Uther's reaction was calm. He stated firmly that the child would live within the kingdom until he was of age, then he'd be returned back to the druid camp where he belonged. Though it was evident that this would not happen for another decade or so, Merlin wept at the news and spent many hours in his bedroom cradling the toddler, who could not understand his tears and would simply speak gibberish, hoping to console him. The thought of letting Mordred go after building such a unique bond…it was painful to say the least. He prayed Uther would change his mind through time. Bear in mind it was lucky he allowed the babe to stay at all.

Now that his family had expanded, Merlin began to wonder what life would have turned out like that he _not_ returned to Camelot. Would he have stayed at the druid camp, married Freya, had children of his own? No…Freya belonged with another. And anyway, he was not one to settle down. He would have travelled the world, that's what he'd have done. Adventure lived within his bloodline and there was no time to stay in one place for too long. But he felt safe at the thought that he always had somewhere to return. Camelot was his home. It would always be his home. He was surrounded by love and that's what kept him secure all these years. One day he would leave again to seek the wonders the world had to offer.

But for now he was happy to stay put. After all, little Mordred needed his company. He now knew what it was like growing up and trying to be the same in a world that was different.

* * *

**A/N: Final part is coming up guys! Thank you so much for your support! xx**


	43. Part 6 - Nelly the healing cat

"Emrys! Emrys! Look what I can do Emrys!"

Many living in the kingdom of Camelot would state that young Mordred had grown up all too quickly. Others stated he hadn't grown quickly enough. To Merlin, Mordred's growth had been both a long and short process; by the time he was five he had mastered reading but speech was still an issue. The only word he seemed desperate to repeat was Merlin's newfound nickname, 'Emrys,' or sometimes, 'Em,' for short. And then there was the obvious babble such as 'hello,' 'goodbye' and on rare occasions, 'dogs!' But he'd say these words and then say no more. They were lucky to get even three words out of him a day. Now seven, Thisbe was convinced he wasn't a talker and deterred Morgana from pushing him.

"If he wants to speak, he'll speak. If he don't want to speak, he won't. You'll damage him by pestering. Remember, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink!"

"You could if you kicked its neck." George threw in.

Mordred had his own room near Thisbe's but when the kingdom was plagued by storms from the West, he would flee to Merlin's chambers and spend the night there. Often his upset would cause several objects to levitate and then drop back down again in a flurry but Merlin hardly noticed. The child would cry a little and after he'd been comforted in the arms of the older man, he would stop and spend a long while staring through his sky blue eyes in wonder at the sacred face above him. It didn't take a fool to realise that he idolized his 'older brother.' He had every reason to.

In the winter months after Merlin turned nineteen, thinks took a dull turn in Camelot. Juno passed after a good eighteen years alive; Merlin mourned his childhood pet as expected and shockingly to all, so did Arthur. Agnes' kittens had left her as soon as they were old enough; most of them were taken in by local farmers who had issues with rats. Only one remained in the castle - the eldest, Nelly. She was Thisbe's sidekick and would accompany her on her rounds. She was black and white, so she certainly wasn't a witch.

Uther himself was not in a fine state of health and found that he needed Gaius' assistance in the smallest of tasks. Elizabeth was certain he'd contracted a chill from the winter air but the king refused to be examined and remained in his chambers as he used to do. Merlin would often see he and Gaius talking amongst themselves but decided not to pry as their conversations seemed confidential.

Today, Mordred had pursued Merlin to the kitchens and when the warlock was least expecting it, leapt upon his back.

"Gaah! What are you!?" Merlin cried in mock fear.

"A monster from the lake!" Mordred squealed, "Ready to eat you!"

"I wouldn't be to your taste." Merlin stated, "Perhaps we can find you something else to gorge on?"

"Sounds mighty fine." Mordred slid off his back and held out his arms for Merlin to take him, "Lift me high Emrys!"

Merlin took the child under his arms and lifted him over his head; Mordred was light as a feather due to his lack of appetite which left him a frame of skin and bone. When Merlin set him back down on the floor, Mordred ran to the wall nearby and cried, "Look what I can do Em!"

He put his head on the ground, kicked off with his heel and did a handstand against the wall. Merlin grinned.

"Who taught you to do that?"

"Cousin George!"

"Really?"

"Yes, he's the best at it."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes."

Merlin found him some water and bread and they ate together for a while, before Mordred suddenly found the food had lost its taste and set it back on his plate.

"What's the matter, little one?" Merlin quizzed the child.

"Aunt Thisbe said my mama's dead."

The warlock coughed, "She said that?"

"Yes...Emrys, what was Mama like?"

At this, Merlin felt his stomach wrench. It pained him to know that Mordred was experiencing what he did as a child; he was being lied to by those who loved him for his own safety and Merlin felt sick to the stomach to be playing along with this game. But as many pointed out, it was for Mordred's own good. As far as the druid was concerned Merlin, Arthur and Morgana were his siblings, Uther was his father, Thisbe and Angus were his uncle and aunt, Elizabeth and George were his cousins and his mother was dead. Through his eyes, he was blessed to have such a large family.

"What was she like?" Merlin said, beginning to feel nervous, "It has been so long I can barely remember."

"But you must remember _something_." Mordred said, "Tell us Emrys, tell us."

Put in an impossible position, Merlin took a deep breath and racked his brains for the memories of Ygraine he still had plastered in his mind, "Well...she was warm. She loved to go out walking with I and your brother Arthur, out into the orchard and sometimes the moors. I remember she would sing to us whenever we cried. She made my father laugh and brought the stars into his eyes and sometimes, on very rare occasions, they would both dance together when they didn't know we were watching. I used to have amber hanging over my cot when I was a bairn and she would jingle it to make me laugh myself to sleep. She had the most beautiful smile..." He trailed off, felt the tears against his eyes but continued nonetheless, "And most wonderful laugh. Whenever Father was angry, she'd always step in and calm him down; she wouldn't let him lay a finger on us. And every evening without fail, even when she was ill from fever, she would bring I and Arthur to her lap and give us a lesson of life. One thing she said that will never leave me is this," He leaned forward to the intrigued Druid, "The world we live in is a cruel one. There are people out there whose hearts are not as pure as yours. But remember this; it is the heart inside us that determines who we are. Not the sword that we wield."

Mordred watched the raven-head in adoration, "Was my Mama really like that?"

Merlin nodded, tears falling, "Yes."

"Oh Emrys!" Mordred pulled back in his chair and hastily kissed the tears away, "Tears are bad for you Em, remember what Uncle Angus said?"

"Yes, I do. But I want to cry. Crying can be good sometimes."

"May I cry with you then?"

Merlin smiled, "Of course."

He sat the druid on his lap and allowed him to press his face into the warmth of his bandana. They both wept for a while, releasing all the stressed energy from within their hearts through their tears. When they were done, Mordred wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and reached up to pat the burning cheek of his older brother.

"Feel better?"

"Yes."

Nelly came hopping down from the shelves and landed on Merlin's shoulder, her favourite spot to perch. At the sight of her, Mordred laughed.

"I think Nelly wishes to console us. But why is she growling?"

"That isn't growling." Merlin replied, reaching up to tickle her, "She's purring."

"Why does she purr?"

"I'm not sure myself but Gaius told me cats do that when they're trying to heal you. So perhaps she's trying to heal us right now, because she knows our hearts are broken and she wants to fix them."


	44. Strangers in the moors

It was not considered wise to walk in the moors alone.

Strangers wandered the moors; rebels from Ealdor, migrants from the West, gypsies, traders, thieves – all of them looking for trouble. But Merlin had no fear for them; his heart had hardened now that he was an adult and his views towards mankind had changed dramatically. He didn't lay trust in anyone he didn't know. He wasn't a simple child anymore; he was cautious and distrustful of his elders and this would often land him in hot water if he used his tongue without thinking.

He was alone on the moors this day, staring at the grey sky appearing in the horizon, when he became sensible to the sound of horses approaching from behind. When he turned, he could see his own reflection through the cold steel of a rapier position between his eyes. He didn't even flinch.

"You're in our way boy." The man of the horse said down to the child, "Kindly move."

Merlin knew his kind – they were tradesmen from the East, typical con men come in hope to rid people of their money for useless values. Merlin turned, observed the space around them and then replied, "Why don't you go around me?"

The stranger looked displeased, then his expression changed and he turned to the other four and said, "You hear that lads? He wants us to go around him."

A wave of laughter passed between each of them and Merlin's expression darkened; as soon as they'd pulled themselves together the first one spoke again.

"We seem to have a little jester here. Now move boy and let us pass."

"Either go around me or turn and head back the way you came."

Amused but also riled, the thug hopped down from his stallion and approached the boy whose face was smeared with dirt, "I see we'll have to move you ourselves then."

The largest man came off his horse and suddenly Merlin found his feet didn't quite touch the ground as two solid hands pinned his arms together and lifted him. He struggled against the brute holding him and suddenly his legs were swept up from beneath him like a bride on her wedding day and a hand was clamped around his mouth. He screeched like a demon and sank his teeth into the thick skin until the hand was moved from his lips. But the hold around his waist remained and he found he couldn't free himself no matter how viciously he thrashed about.

"Little wild-cat!" The thug exclaimed, flashing his bleeding palm, "I say we cut out his tongue to stop him screaming!"

The leader took Merlin's chin and leaned forward until the boy could sense the dry stench of ale in his breath, "I think this little fox needs to be taught some manners. He's wild. I'll snap his bloody neck-"

Merlin spat in his eye and he lurched back; the boy suddenly found he had been dropped to the floor and gathered himself up quickly. Vexed, the leader uncoiled the whip he used for his horse and cracked it over the boy's shoulder; it tore along the skin beneath his clothing, leaving a mark spreading from his shoulder blade to the small of his back. The strike earned a scream and Merlin found his legs wouldn't stand properly; he fell again and landed on all fours and the pain brought a surge of anger rushing through his veins, spilling out of his eyes. All of a sudden the whip keeled back and wrapped around the bully's throat, tightening until he went blue in the face. Several of the horses reared in fright, sending their riders over their heads. Merlin moved a hand past his collar and felt the warm tinge of blood wet on his fingertips.

"Merlin!"

He was faintly aware of Arthur riding up with the knights behind him but the pain fuzzed his vision and he let them close. The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake and cradled in the strong arms of his brother.

"Merlin. Ye Gods, what did they do to you?"

The knights had successfully dragged the trespassers from their horses and bound their hands but the leader, who was still gasping for air, pointed a finger to Merlin and cried, "Sorcery!"

Arthur looked up, eyes dark and replied, "You are mistaken."

"Twas sorcery!" The man repeated, "I saw it with my own eyes! He very nearly killed me!"

"Do you have evidence for your claim?" Sir Gwaine asked, binding the rope tighter against the thug's wrists.

"…No…but what else could it have been?"

"Perhaps the ale has gone to your head." This comment from Percival earned a chuckle from the other knights.

"I think you'd be better off clearing out of here before my father comes wanting your head," Arthur thundered, "For he is the king of Camelot and you have just unlawfully beaten one of his sons."

The man lost all colour and wondered if a humble plea would be enough to lighten his sentence. It was in vain; the five of them were hauled back off to Camelot to face Uther and their sentence. Arthur stayed back with Merlin who after consuming a lot of water, felt less sick and dizzy.

"You should count yourself lucky." The prince commented, shaking the empty flask, "I was on my way up here to tan you for coming here unescorted. But it seems I was beaten to it."

Merlin cringed at the thought. Arthur went up behind him and knelt to his level, carefully lifting his shirt up over his shoulders to reveal the harsh scar that lingered across the raven head's back. It bled slightly and looked prone to infection. Obviously Gaius would need to examine it when they returned to the castle but for now he would need to lighten the bleeding and he had no medical equipment to do so.

Not wishing to leave the skin to break and produce more blood, Arthur leaned over, pressed his lips against the top of the wound and began sucking. It brought a sharp sting to Merlin's nerves and he found several tears rolled and splashed against the grass below but he was aware that Arthur knew what he was doing. The prince continued to suck at the wound until the blood and slaver mingled and the area around his mouth stained red.

Merlin felt relief wash over him when the wound was dry enough and Arthur pulled back. When he caught a look at the prince he took great curiosity in the smears of blood around his mouth. It completely changed his face; for a moment he didn't look like Arthur anymore. All of a sudden he looked like a killer. A savage, cat-like animal. Merlin shook his head, screwing up the image in his mind.

Carefully folding his shirt back down, Arthur kissed the back of Merlin's head and hugged him from behind, "We must get you home. Gaius will clean it properly and stitch it up."

"You can't tell father." Merlin wept, "You can't tell him of what they did. They threatened to snap my neck Arthur, if they catch me-"

"Sssh." Arthur kissed his hair again, "I won't tell father. But I can assure you those men will never see you again. I'll have them done in until they can't walk in a straight line."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For using magic."

"You were defending yourself Merlin. They could have easily killed you. And even if they say anything no one will believe them. Come now, otherwise we'll miss dinner."

Slinging an arm around the warlock's shoulder, he helped him stand and then guided him to his horse, being careful not to brush against his injured back.


	45. Archimedes

"Merlin, come here! Come one, you have to see this!"

Merlin shifted in the armchair, the pain still throbbing through the wound that was now cleaned and bandaged and carefully pulled himself to his feet, trying to locate his brother's voice.

"Arthur?"

"In here. Hurry up, you'll miss it!"

He found the prince in the library – which confused him as Arthur was hardly one to get excited over books. When he caught sight of Merlin, the prince grinned and pointed upwards to the shelf in the corner; when Merlin squinted he could see something moving in the shadows, hopping about in worry. An owl had flown in through the open window above and was pacing as if trying to figure a safe route out. Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"How long has he been there?"

Arthur shrugged, "I'm not sure. But he's been pacing for ages now. I'm worried he'll wear the wood thin."

After watching it for a while longer, they came to the conclusion that they ought to get the bird down before it became furtherly distressed. Merlin found the ladder used for reaching the top shelves and after bartering a few pennies, Arthur agreed to be the one to retrieve the owl. It seemed reluctant at first and shied away from him; but after a while it seemed to realise there was no room to fly and nowhere else to pace. It hopped onto Arthur's arm and he returned to the floor again, met by a baffled Merlin.

"He's pretty…" the raven head said in a dull tone, as Arthur stroked its feathers with one finger.

"Yes, he is. He'd make a fine pet."

"He belongs in the _forest_ Arthur."

"I know that. But perhaps he could stick around for a while longer-"

Merlin was shaking his head, "Thisbe would go spare. Anyway, we have enough animals to last us the winter."

"Come, let's keep him." Arthur said, as the owl hopped onto his shoulder and began to nibble at his ear, "He'd be able to sort out the rat problem."

"They eat_ mice_ Arthur. And besides, we have Nelly for that."

"Having an owl would be fun. Lighten up will you? We'll let him go eventually."

Merlin didn't bother arguing; it was pointless when Arthur was being bossy, "Alright, fine, I won't tell Father. But you're the one looking after him. Count me out."

Merlin was never usually so short-tempered. Normally he'd have jumped at the chance of an exotic pet such as a wild owl. There was something lingering in his face, passing from one eye to another. A small feeling of insecurity.

"You're acting strangely…" Arthur said, peering at him, "Are you alright?"

Merlin drew breath, "Back hurts, that's all."

The owl shifted on Arthur's shoulder and ended up on his head, looking down at Merlin curiously with its rather intimidating yellow eyes. The boy coughed nervously.

"Thought of a name for him?" He asked, wishing the creature would look away or at least blink.

"Yes," Arthur replied, "Let's call him Archimedes."

"_Archimedes?_"

"What? It's a distinguished name…for an owl…"


	46. Cruel reality

Archimedes proved to be quite a character; he spent most of his days terrorising the serving-maids on their errands or annoying Cook by attempting to nick her dumplings and when bored he would swoop off to find the young warlock to get his feathers tickled or to have a doze on his shoulder. After a while there was hardly any point of having the cats anymore; the mice of the palace didn't stand a chance with the keen eye of the old owl. Guinevere would many a time come across him decapitating one of the poor creatures.

Arthur was busy filling out his father's paperwork for him, as the king was now too weak to do so himself, when young Mordred came wandering into his chambers, feet slowly scuffing the floor. The prince noticed there was an unusual glint in his eye that he'd never seen before, something which sparked worry.

"Is everything alright Mordred?"

The young druid shifted, bottom lip curling inwards, "Emrys…"

"You mean Merlin? What about him?"

"He's in the lake."

"He's _what_?"

Mordred pointed to the window which overlooked the palace gardens and when Arthur peered out, he noticed the lone figure of his brother standing in the middle of the lake, waist deep in water. Had it been Morgana standing there, he wouldn't have been surprised.

He stood and opened the windows, calling out to the warlock, "Merlin! What are you doing?!"

There was no response.

"Merlin! You can't stand there all day, you'll catch a chill!"

Still no response.

Growling, Arthur shut the window, wondering what on earth had possessed Merlin to wade into the lake and get himself wet. The soft knock at the door diverted his attention from the man in the lake and he turned to see Guinevere at the door.

"The king requests your presence, sire."

"What for?"

"It's about Merlin."

Arthur found Uther in his chambers, sitting in the usual armchair and made sure to approach with caution, in case his presence sparked another one of the king's turns.

"You wished to see me, sire?"

Uther turned, face greyer than usual, "How is Merlin?"

"He's…" Arthur wondered if it would be wise to point out to the king that his son was currently standing in the middle of their lake, "…he's around…somewhere…"

"I fear I have done something terrible Arthur."

"What's happened?"

Uther stared out at the courtyard below, to all his subjects busy in their usual afternoon routine, "I have found Merlin's father…"

Arthur blinked, "You have?"

"I sent a patrol out into the forest to find him. I sent him a message requesting his presence…"

Arthur swallowed carefully, "And?"

"He's accepted."

The prince shut his eyes, "Does Merlin know?"

"I had Angus tell him earlier. He…he was very quiet."

"Naturally."

"Do you think I have made a mistake Arthur?"

"I…" Arthur put his mind to it. He was unsure of how he would feel in this type of situation. He and Merlin were complete opposites. They both reacted in different ways; Arthur usually went off in a heated tirade whilst Merlin would calmly piece everything together, "I don't know."

"Balinor arrives in a week. He is very anxious to see his boy."

"If he is so anxious then why did he leave Merlin in the first place?" Arthur found himself snapping.

"He wasn't in the right state of mind after his wife was murdered Arthur-"

"Parents are supposed to be there for their children. They're supposed to love and care for them no matter what," Arthur felt his cheeks singeing, "Would you have left us?"

"What do you mean?"

"After mother died, would you have left Merlin and I?"

Uther turned, aghast, "Of course not!"

"Then he has no excuse."

"Arthur-"

"I will tolerate his presence in the kingdom, but don't think for one moment that I will forgive him for the pain and suffering he has caused Merlin all these years."

With nothing more to say, the crown prince of Camelot turned and left Uther in the shadows of his chambers.


	47. Morgana begs

In the week that followed, Merlin was unusually quiet. Morgana seemed the only one to notice and voiced her concern to Uther but all she received was a blank stare. She found Arthur alone in his chambers and demanded an answer, but he laughed at her.

"If you are so concerned Morgana, why don't you go and ask him yourself?" He stepped over to the table and laid his gloves down on it, "Why come and ask me?"

"He will not talk to me," Morgana said calmly, trying to control her anger, "And you know very well that the king hardly speaks to me anymore. I think _you_ know why Merlin is acting this way and I want you to tell me."

Arthur snorted, "Merlin is nothing to do with you. You're not his blood, his family."

"I'm as good as!"

"Is it really your_ business_ to ask him why he has been behaving the way he has?"

"I ask because I am _worried_." Morgana said, foot pounding the floor, "Merlin is never like this unless something has deeply unsettled him." She paused in her sentence, approached after and hesitantly laid a hand on his arm to get his full attention, "You and I used to have something in common, Arthur Pendragon. The love for our brother. Let us think about that now instead of quarrelling like stubborn children."

Arthur went to object, then realised she was correct and reached up a hand to rub his eyes, "Merlin's father is to arrive in Camelot tomorrow."

Morgana's eyes widened in a flare, "His father? But that is excellent news!"

"Merlin's head is all over the place." Arthur replied, "He doesn't know what to think. How could he? The man abandoned him and made no effort to contact him for almost twenty years-"

"He is still his father," Morgana replied swiftly, "Whether you like it or not Arthur, they are blood. And there will always be a bond between them, something unbreakable."

"I don't want Merlin to get hurt-"

"Neither do I. But you won't help by being bitter all the time. Put aside your anger for Merlin's sake. Please Arthur, I _beg _of you."

Arthur looked upon the girl and suddenly had a small twinge of respect for Morgana, "You've never begged for anything before. Especially not from _me_."

"It's best you savour this moment, because I can assure you it will never happen again."

Arthur took heed to her words, "I'll keep my distance." He said quietly, "And I won't antagonise anyone. I promise."

Morgana's lips twitched as if she considered smiling at him. She didn't quite manage it. They stood in silence for a little while, looking at the floor below them.

"I want everything to turn out for him, Arthur. He took all the darkness out of my childhood. I wish to return the favour."

"Yes…" Arthur looked up at the windows above and shut his eyes, the sun bouncing off his lids, "…so do I."


	48. To heal the scars

**Warning:** Contains slight gore/self harm. Some readers may find elements in this chapter disturbing.

* * *

The morning of Balinor's arrival sparked great concern for Arthur; he had seen Merlin go to bed the night before, but when he awoke and went to his chambers the warlock was not present. He wasn't with Morgana. Or George. Or even Mordred. The knights hadn't seen him and neither had Gwen. He had quizzed Gaius over the boy's whereabouts and he commented that he had seen Merlin an hour earlier heading for the spare room.

This information made Arthur cringe; the spare room had been Balinor and Hunith's living space during their stay in Camelot, the same chambers Merlin slept in as a baby. He walked to the room with care, unsure of whether to disturb the figure inside; inside it was quiet, so he guessed Merlin was simply standing by the window reminiscing or reading by the hearth. He knocked and after receiving no reply, decided to enter anyway; Merlin was over in the corner by the mirror and at first Arthur wondered if he'd spilt something down his front, due to the red liquid stained around his mouth. But it wasn't a drink of any sort. It was thicker, darker than wine.

Arthur ran forward and tore the penknife out of Merlin's hand before he could injure himself further, but when he examined his brother's face he saw the damage had been done; Merlin opened his mouth and drooled red water which poured over the thin gashes around his lips. He knew from the amount of blood that the inside of Merlin's mouth was probably all carved up too. Arthur threw the penknife against the floor so it split in two and caught Merlin before he could go and retrieve it.

"Merlin! What the _hell_ were you thinking?" He had a hard time holding onto the boy, as Merlin dragged him down to the floor and attempted to reach for the weapon, "Stop it! You'll kill yourself!"

Merlin didn't respond; his arm lashed out desperately but only managed to scrape the metal. Arthur leapt up and kicked it under one of the cabinets before Merlin could get his paws on it and do himself further harm. As soon as it was out of his reach, Arthur dragged his brother up off the floor and resumed in yelling, "Are you determined to make yourself suffer?" He grabbed him again and dragged him over to the mirror, "_This_ is what you've done to yourself! Look at that mess! Why would you_ do_ that to yourself!?"

Merlin lunged away and sank to the floor again, "This is for everything he's done!" he cried, pointing to each gash under the coat of blood, "This one was for when he left me as a child!" he pointed to another, "This one is when I cried for him when I realised I'd been living a lie!" and he pointed to the last, the biggest one near his chin, "And _this_ is for when he had the nerve to want to see my face again. When he dared to try and walk into my life as if nothing had happened. When he-" he cut off and his hands whipping up to grasp his hair, "Oh _God_!" he started weeping, his bloodied fingers tangling with his hair, "Has the Devil set out to ruin me? Was I really destined for such misery? I hate it! I would rather die!"

"Merlin, the Gods never intended to give you such misery-!"

"I say the Gods are dead!" Merlin spluttered, blood spraying from his lips, "Dead, they are dead, they are-!" He went white, attempted to stand and then flopped down again, head slamming against the floorboards.

"Oh heaven…" Arthur ran to him and tried to pick him up but the weight of the body made him buckle, "Elizabeth! _Elizabeth_!"

** ~oOo~**

Merlin had been taken to Gaius immediately after Elizabeth found Arthur trembling and crying over the warlock's barely conscious body; the physician had managed to stop the flow of blood after ten minutes or so and informed them both that they would have to wait for the wounds to heal up in their own time. Thankfully he had not cut deep enough for there to be scars left upon the skin, but there were several nasty red scratches which ached after Gaius had dabbed water on them.

"What will I tell the king?" Merlin asked quietly, when the physician was finished cleaning.

"You will tell him the truth." Gaius said firmly, "There's been enough dishonesty Merlin, you cannot lie to Uther forever."

"He'll think he's mad," Arthur muttered, "I'll think of something Merlin, don't fret over it."

From the corner of the room on one of Gaius' bookshelves, Archimedes turned his head thoughtfully.

"I feel ill…" Merlin choked and Gaius grabbed one of his buckets before he sicked up his breakfast all over his potions.

"The neusea will subside," said the elder man, setting the bucket aside when Merlin had stopped, "In the meantime, you best be getting yourself ready."

"I cannot do it Gaius," Merlin said, his voice catching, "I can't face him now. He'll think I'm insane."

"_I_ think you're insane!" Arthur suddenly cried, hand slamming down on the table.

"Arthur-" Gaius began but was cut off as the prince began to rant.

"Look what you did, Merlin! What kind of man does that to himself? What kind of _child_ does that to himself? You've gone absolutely _bonkers_ Merlin!" He started crying, "I can't stand to see you like this!"

A drop of water clung to the warlock's eyelash, "You know me better than anyone Arthur. You should know what I'm capable of."

There was a soft knock on the door and Gaius almost called for the person to go away. George poked his head around and when he noticed Merlin's wounds, he shuddered. It seemed the servant's rumours had been true.

"I'm awfully sorry to disturb you," he said humbly, crouching a little, "But Balinor has arrived in Camelot."

Merlin shut his eyes and the drop of water fell. He stood without opening them and gently released the air from between his cheeks.

"I can go with you if you like-" Arthur was cut off with a wave of the warlock's hand.

"This is something I must do myself," Merlin reached for his cloak, the one he always wore on a Sunday and carefully draped it around his own shoulders, "I suppose there's no point in hiding any longer. I refuse to live in fear anymore Arthur. I will face him alone. It is the only way to heal the scars."


	49. The bond between father and son

Angus was waiting for him when he reached the main hall and as soon as he reached him the warlock put both arms around his neck and felt his breathing hitch.

"Calm down," Angus said gently, "Everything will be fine."

"Can you be sure Angus?" Merlin muttered in reply.

"Well, you can never be completely sure – but if Balinor is the same man I remember him as, you'll have nothing to fear."

Merlin pulled away and looked down at the floor, "I wonder what he'll think when he sees me."

Angus reached over and cupped the boy's chin, so their eyes met, "He will see a beautiful young man who has lived his life to the fullest and wish that he had been around to watch you grow up into the person you have become." He looked towards the faint scratch marks around Merlin's mouth and gently stroked them, "If things do not go as you want them to, always remember that you are loved. Everyone here loves you and they always have."

"I know that Angus," Merlin replied, "I just wish my own father would love me."

"He does Merlin, otherwise he would not be here. Hurry now," he gave the boy a gentle kiss on the forehead, "They're expecting you."

Merlin braced himself, adjusted his cloak and nodded for Angus to open the doors.

The first man he recognised was Uther, who was standing. He was looking frailer by the day and his clothes hung off him noticeably. The figure next to him, face hidden, shifted at the sound of the door opening and shutting again and Merlin caught sight of two dark, dog-like eyes staring out from beneath the hood. His feet ached to run, but he remained solidly in place. He was a man now. This was no time to hide like a child.

Archimedes was sitting on his perch in the corner and at the sight of Merlin, swooped over and landed on the boy's shoulder; at this, the stranger's lips twitched slightly and he found it within him to stand.

"Merlin," Uther said quietly, "Say hello to your father."

The hood was lifted and Merlin was faced with quite a different image to what he had expected; Balinor was bearded, as he'd presumed, but his face was gentle and kind looking. You would never have guessed he had spent most of his existence living in a cave in the middle of the forest. It seemed he had cleaned himself up specially for the visit.

"Hello Merlin." He said, voice husky.

Merlin reached up to stroke Archimedes, eyes still on the man before him and only managed a quiet, "Hello…"

Uther excused himself and tactfully made his exit; all of a sudden, Merlin didn't want him to go and he found himself cringing when he was left alone with Balinor. Archimedes returned to his perch and began cleaning his feathers.

"You're good with him," Balinor commented, watching the bird fuss over itself.

Merlin said nothing, he just shrugged and watched the floor.

"What happened to your mouth?"

"I cut it."

"It looks painful."

"It is."

There was another tense pause, before the Dragonlord finally said, "Come here, son."

Cheeks flaring, Merlin carefully approached him, body trembling and when they were only inches apart he couldn't contain himself and suddenly fell to his knees, head bowed to hide the shame.

"Forgive me," he babbled, eyes welling up, "I-I don't know why I am so nervous, I have waited for this moment since I was a little boy…" he trailed off and started sobbing.

He felt a hand on his head and Balinor squatted before him, fingers slipping underneath his chin to tilt his head upwards and allow their eyes to meet.

"You are never to apologise to me, Merlin." He whispered, hand gently stroking the tear-stained skin, "After all the grief I have caused you, it is I that should be grovelling at your feet. There now little one, ssh, do not cry so anymore." After a moments thought, he carefully put both arms around the boy and held him until he had found it within him to stop crying.

There was something about Balinor's touch that brought a flood of memories back to Merlin; he suddenly remembered the warmth of his breath, the musk scent of his skin, the smooth texture of his voice. He remembered it and he was certain this was his real father. All the years of searching had finally paid off; he belonged to someone and this someone was his blood. But he still needed answers.

"Why did you leave…?" he managed to stutter, ducking away a moment to look into his father's eyes, "All those years…" he stood, suddenly angry, "Not a word, not a letter, not anything."

"Merlin-"

"You left me! You left your own child!" Merlin attempted to keep his voice down but somehow failed to manage it, "Why? I mean, I understand you were devastated about mother but you could have at least attempted to contact me in some way. But not a word!"

Balinor went and sat down again, eyes on the boy all the while, "You think I didn't try to contact you?" he shifted, leaning forward, "I wrote you a letter every day Merlin. I had a friend in Camelot who would deliver them to the king. I would ask Uther of your well being but he never replied, not once. In the end I gave up and turned to the witch Nimueh for aid. She had a mirror in her lair which she used to show me your image; I would go there every year on your birthday and see how you had changed since the last time I saw you. She only permitted me to go once a year – her whereabouts needed to remain anonymous, you see. Words cannot describe how much I wanted to see you Merlin, but I knew I would not get within a mile of the city gates without being arrested. But I knew you were being raised by honest people and I knew you would grow up to be a fine young man. There were times when it seemed you were better off without me in your life-"

"No, no!" Merlin ran and dropped to his knees again, face buried in the soft lap.

Balinor tussled his fingers in the jet black hair and continued gently, "My presence would have only caused you pain, Merlin. I could not risk turning up and damaging you. I assumed Uther would make a fitter parent anyway. He had the title and the money-"

"Uther brought me up decently," said Merlin, lifting his head, "But…I always knew…always knew at the back of my head that I was different, that I belonged somewhere else."

"You have unimaginable powers, Merlin." The Dragonlord said, "With the magic you have, you won't have to rely on anyone."

"I've always relied on people." Merlin sighed, "Without my family I'd be lost."

"I wish I had been able to experience the love that has surrounded you when I was a child." Balinor said with slight sorrow in his voice.

They held each other a while longer, Balinor gently rocking the boy who nestled his face into the safety of his neck. From the corner of the room, Archimedes watched them thoughtfully, head cocked to the side. He remained watching them for the rest of the evening, as if his presence would protect them from the past demons that slowly crept into the room.

**~oOo~**

"Children! What are you doing?"

Arthur, who had his ear pressed to the door, suddenly felt the weight of Morgana upon him as she lost her balance and knocked George over. They landed in a heap and almost squashed Mordred to death, but the little one crawled out before they had a chance to. Once on the floor, Arthur grinned sheepishly up at Angus.

"We're…checking for woodworm."

"What, all four of you? You know what the king thinks of eavesdropping!" He took his son George under his arm and administered four or five smacks to his bottom, "You wait till your mother hears of you!"

"Ow Papa," George whined, cheeks blazing in fiery embarrassment at such a childish punishment, "I'm sorry!"

Angus released him, "What goes on in that room is no one's business but Merlin and his father's," he went and picked up Mordred, whose eyes were drooping, "All of you up to bed this minute."

They all began to shuffle off, George snivelling from being spanked, while Mordred laid his head on Angus' shoulder and allowed his eyes to close. The doors of the hall suddenly opened and all the children crept round the corner, craning their heads over as Merlin came out with Balinor, looking slightly flustered.

"Will you consider it Merlin?" the Dragonlord asked the boy in a low voice.

Merlin nodded in response but looked somewhat doubtful. The guards came to escort his father away and they departed with a final embrace which seemed to last a thousand years; Arthur had never seen such love and the sight made his eyes moist. They all felt great sympathy as Merlin watched his father leave for what could have easily been the last time. Morgana refused to watch anymore and went to bed and Arthur went shortly after her; still cradling the child Mordred, Angus went and put a hand around George to lead him back to the servant's chambers. Merlin remained in the hall a while, until Angus called him gently and he slowly ran to catch up.


	50. Merlin's choice

"What did you talk about?" Arthur questioned him, when they were alone in a room one day.

"Everything," Merlin replied, "We spoke mostly about my mother," at this, he smiled, "He said I have her eyes and her smile."

This made Arthur chuckle, "Yes, I think you do."

"He loved her…" Merlin ran a tongue over his bottom lip, "I can understand why he did what he did Arthur. She was his world."

His brother's face changed, "That's still no excuse for what he did. No father should ever leave their child, no matter what the circumstances are."

"There is such thing as _forgiveness_, Arthur." Merlin replied dryly, "Something which you are not familiar with."

This made Arthur mute. Nelly the cat came hopping down from the shelves and rested herself on the prince's shoulders, rubbing herself against his flaxen hair.

"How is the king?" Merlin asked, breaking the silence.

Arthur remained quiet, carefully reaching up a hand for Nelly to sniff.

"Arthur?"

"He's taken to his bed," the prince finally replied, "Thisbe says he has fever…he's dying Merlin. We all knew this day would come."

The warlock shut his eyes and suddenly the window blew open, making the curtains billow, "I don't want to think of it…I'm afraid to."

"_You're_ afraid? I'm the Crown Prince, Merlin. When father is gone, the fate of the kingdom rests on _my_ shoulders."

Merlin watched Nelly as she purred into the stubborn prince's ear, wondering if she had any understanding of the conversation. He was sure she didn't.

"He wants me to go with him."

Arthur rubbed his forehead impatiently, "What?"

"My father…he wants me to go to Ealdor with him. There's no need for him to hide anymore, not now that Uther has accepted our relationship."

Arthur stared at him, "You're serious?"

"It'll be a chance for me to get to know my father, Arthur."

"So you're just packing up and leaving us then?"

"Of course not-"

"The man abandoned you Merlin!" he stood so swiftly that he startled Nelly and she leapt into Merlin's arms, "We're the only family you've ever had and you're leaving us!"

"Arthur, I'm not-"

"If that is what you wish, then fine! Go with him, leave Camelot! See if I care!"

The prince stormed out, leaving a trail of dust behind him. The noise upset Merlin and when he was sure Arthur was out of earshot, he held Nelly close to him and began to shiver.


	51. The last page

**A/N: Final chapter I'm afraid, I just need to get this story finished. I want to say thanks to everyone who took the time to read this. I was really stuck for an ending so I decided to do something a little different this time. Let's just say most of my stories have happier endings. Again, thank you and enjoy! xx**

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Time went slowly after his confrontation with Arthur. But it did not change Merlin's mind. The following day, he sent a note out to Balinor accepting his offer.

The morning he was due to leave, not a word was exchanged between he and Angus, as the servant adjusted the clasp on his cape. There was nothing to be said – what could be said? Any words would just break the ice and make the walls crumble around them. He knew he was doing the right thing. It was time to move on. His father had lost so much already. He needed his son, as his son needed him.

Merlin stared at himself in the mirror, at the boy dressed in black. He didn't look like a prince. He didn't look like a warlock. He didn't belong anywhere.

He had already said goodbye to the king; Uther was facing his last days and now remained in his chambers with Gaius by his side at all times. He had stayed there an hour or two, crying and thanking Uther for every moment in his childhood, for he knew if it were not for the decency of the king, he would not be alive at that moment. And Uther thanked him; for if it was not for the innocence of the sorcerer boy, Uther's bitterness for magic would never have been surpassed and the essence of love would have been forever absent from his heart.

After bidding farewell to Gaius also, Merlin descended down the stairs and met Thisbe and Elizabeth who were both crying; there he received a flurry of hugs and kisses which he knew would probably stick with him for a number of months and when he finally managed to escape he ran right into Morgana and George.

"Good morning…" Morgana had tears running down her face, ending at her chin and carefully dripping onto the stone floor below.

Merlin said nothing; he just took her in his arms and held her; then he took George with his other arm and held him also. His hands became fists as he listened to them sob and suddenly he couldn't bear to let any of them go. He felt them tremble, the heat of their breath against his shoulder. He hated it; he hated what he was doing to them. But he had spent all his life thinking of other people. It was time to think about himself for a change.

"Merlin?"

He turned and saw Arthur on the stairs, Guinevere standing a few paces behind him. He released Morgana and George as Arthur approached him and before he could speak his brother had caught him in such a tight embrace, it stole all the air out of him.

"Never forget me…" Arthur muttered under clenched teeth, realising his face was wet, "If you do, I'll kill you, you hear me? I'll kill you."

"Impossible, Arthur," Merlin replied, lip trembling, "_Impossible_…"

He held him with an unclenching grip, his agony causing several items in the room to fall over unexpectedly, including Agnes the cat. Arthur kissed him several times, something which formerly he was rather too vain to do and it made his heart lose control. When Merlin finally found it within him to let go, his muscles seemed to have gone numb and he found movement difficult. He looked at them all and knew that Angus was right; he was loved. That was all he needed. To know that he was loved.

He turned and his eye fell upon little Mordred, who was the only one unaware of the situation. No one had told him, for they feared it would confuse him. It was Merlin's duty to tell him. He'd been fed enough lies.

"Emrys, where are you going?"

Merlin crouched down to the child's level, "I'm going away somewhere, Mordred."

"Will you be back?"

"Of course," he reached out and took the child's chin, "Remember what I always told you?"

Mordred twiddled his thumbs, "it is the heart inside us that determines who we are. Not the sword that we wield…"

Merlin took him then and kissed his face several times, "You will grow up a legend, Mordred."

He pulled away and stood up straight; a servant came in and announced Balinor's arrival and with that, the young warlock turned and left swiftly out of the door, noticing his father waiting at the palace gates with the horses. He saw the knights and waved to them; they waved back, unaware that this may be the final time. Archimedes was flying in circles around the castle, full of joy at being free. It gave Merlin a sense of security. It gave him a sense that he had somewhere to return to. He knew he did; he knew he could return to Camelot at whatever time he wanted and be accepted with open arms. And when Arthur was king, who knows? Perhaps all those with magic would be welcomed again. But that was something only time would reveal.

Back in the palace, young Mordred suddenly ran to the window and began pummeling his fists against the glass, crying, "Emrys, don't leave!" until George came and sat with him until he calmed himself down. Morgana went and locked herself in her room, as did Guinevere. Angus and Thisbe left Arthur watching George and Mordred at the window, as the sound of horses trotting across the cobbles in the courtyard met the ears.

In the room above them, Uther stood watching with Gaius as Merlin headed out of the gates of Camelot and into the world before him, feeling great sadness but little pain.

"This is what was meant to be, I suppose," he said to Gaius, "You raise them so they're ready for the world and then eventually the time comes for them to leave you."

"You raised him with more love than I have ever witnessed, Uther," Gaius replied, "And look what he has become. He will be the best sorcerer that ever lived. Ygraine would be proud."

Uther kept watching until the horses and their riders had disappeared and then looked up towards the sky, the sun reflecting off his ageing eyes.

"I wonder if he will think of us…"

**~THE END~**


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